


Home Sweet Home

by Redlikessoup



Category: Powerpuff Girls
Genre: Brick uses some bad words, F/M, after that who knows, first chapter is the blues with a little greens, not graphic but has violence, second chapter is the reds, third the greens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 44,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27388843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redlikessoup/pseuds/Redlikessoup
Summary: The last thing Bubbles expects to find in New York City is Boomer Jojo, much less a Boomer Jojo in need of saving. As old feelings surface Bubbles knows what she wants. The only question is whether Boomer knows where home is. The choices they make will unknowingly put in motion events that will leave Townsville and the world forever changed.
Relationships: Boomer/Bubbles Utonium, Brick/Blossom Utonium, Butch/Buttercup Utonium, siblings - Relationship
Comments: 3
Kudos: 24





	1. Home Sweet Home

There was something about going to a big city on your own that filled one with possibilities. That was just the feeling that was running through Bubbles as she walked through the streets of New York City. She'd come for the Museum of Modern Art and decided in her planning she'd make an entire week of it despite the Professor, and in all honesty Blossom's, dismay. Bubbles had told them that if they had an issue with her going then they should just come with, they'd make a vacation of it. The Professor had crumbled saying that he had work to do and didn't much care for big cities. Blossom had given a twenty minute speech about how the people of Townsville needed her and she couldn't just leave them alone for a week. Buttercup had seemed intrigued by a trip to New York until the word museum had been said and then the young woman's green eyes had glazed over in disinterest. For all those reasons, and the fact that Bubbles could not be dissuaded, she found herself alone in New York City.

Bubbles loved the feeling a new city gave her. No one knew who she was, no one expected her to chat with them, or save them. For all intents and purposes, the New Yorkers viewed Bubbles as just another body in the sea of people. She was normal in the Big Apple. Bubbles didn't mind being the center of attention back home but it was nice for a change to have the barista at the coffee shop she went to pause when she provided her name. Outside of Townsville Bubbles was a strange name and she relished in it just a little. She enjoyed the adventure of being unknown to the fullest.

Until she reached the third day and had somehow accomplished all the touristy things she'd come to the city to do. She had four more days before she went home. Bubbles gave her smoothie a sip and looked over a map. She wasn't sure why she bothered because she wasn't particularly good at reading maps. She'd failed the unit of her geography class in high school, and besides, there was so much jammed onto the map that mere street names began to overwhelm her. She folded the map up and returned it to her purse. Perhaps she could simply roam around the city. With the blessing of being super-powered, Bubbles didn't have to fear getting lost in a big city like other women did. She had the privilege of allowing herself to wander alone in an unfamiliar city.

Bubbles managed to wander most of her day away. She found little mom and pop stores and the best Mexican restaurant she'd ever eaten at that she was tempted to never go home to Townsville again. As Bubbles enjoyed her food she daydreamed about her life in the big city. She'd get a job as a freelance artist, get a dingy little apartment that always smelled like cigarette smoke despite her not smoking, and she'd eat at this restaurant at least once a week. She thought about how she'd get a cat or maybe a small dog and even though Bubbles wouldn't be rich, and her family might worry about her paying rent, she'd get by and she'd enjoy living in a big city where she was pleasantly invisible. With a small sigh as she threw away her napkin, Bubbles dismissed her imaginary life. She could never really leave Townsville for more than this week. She loved Townsville, but it was nice to think about a life outside of it.

Bubbles was pulled from her thoughts when she heard the scuffle happening a few alleyways down. Someone was getting beat up, and although no one in this city expected her to save them, she decided to do so anyways.

Boomer had once enjoyed getting into fights. When he was younger he and his brothers had gotten into so many that his eye had been swollen for a week despite the Chemical-X that had coursed through his veins then. The high of a fight had been his absolute favorite thing in the world. Boomer had enjoyed fighting almost as much as Butch had. He said almost because no one loved fighting as much as his green eyed brother.

"Careful," Boomer coughed as he took a punch to the groin. "I want to have children one day."

"Then maybe they'll give us our money," The man punching him snarled. There were two more men simply holding his arms so he couldn't fight back. Not that he could really do much damage if they weren't, the Chemical-X had been removed from his system years ago.

"I don't owe you any money, that's my brothers," Boomer said. There was another blow sent to his stomach. Something inside him did not respond well. Boomer thought about how his hair was getting too long when he spat blood and got it in his blond locks. "And for your information, beating the shit out of me isn't going to do much, I haven't seen or heard from them in months." Boomer took several more punches. The skin just above his right eyebrow broke, letting blood drip into his eye.

"Maybe your bloodied corpse at their doorstep will do something," The punching man said. Boomer would have begged if he'd thought it would do anything to help his case, but the pink faced, diamond stud earrings, meathead beating him didn't seem the kind to give into beggars. Instead, Boomer simply spat at the man's feet and told him to kindly go fuck himself. The man didn't get a chance to deliver another blow to Boomer's already blood covered face before a feminine looking hand grabbed the man and flung him into a nearby wall. He hit the brick with an unsettling thud and groaned.

"Oh, I'm sorry, was that too much force?" A harp-like voice asked. Boomer went crashing onto the disgusting ground as the two men that had been holding him up charged at the owner of that harmonious voice. Boomer lifted himself stiffly to his feet trying to understand why a random woman would endanger herself to help him. "Boys, please, I don't want to fight, I just thought you should learn to play nice with your friend over there."

There was something about that voice. It sounded familiar, but he had a feeling if he really knew her she wouldn't be saving his ass. He couldn't think of any woman in this city who knew him that he hadn't just flirted with for a night's desires and then not called afterwards. There was no one who knew his face in this city that would want to save him from getting the shit beat out of him. Boomer wiped the blood out of his eyes. That was when she moved into the light of the street lights for the briefest of seconds as she sent a guy flying over her shoulder. Boomer suddenly placed the voice, after all, there was no way he'd ever forget those jarring, lightning blue eyes.

"Bubbles?" He squeaked. She stopped fighting and directed her eyes to the beaten man before her.

"Boomer?" She asked as the three men she'd been fighting lay on the ground moaning in pain. The man with diamond studs cussed and the glint of a knife blade made itself known.

"You little bitch," he hissed. Boomer sprung into action. He clutched Bubbles' wrist and took off running. He'd parked his motorcycle only a block away and he ran as fast as he could. Bubbles, thank the Heavens, ran with him. She didn't seem to consider flying and he was glad for it. If those thugs saw her fly news would travel through the streets and before morning Brick would know. Boomer had to ensure Brick didn't know that there was a Powerpuff girl in his city. The knowledge would only lead to the world being short a superhero.

"Boomer!" Bubbles gasped when he stopped running and began patting his pockets for his keys. "What is going on? Why are you in New York?"

"I should really be asking you why you're here," Boomer revved his motorcycle to life. "But for now just get on the bike."

Bubbles had no idea what was happening. She'd only wanted to stop someone from getting hurt and now she was running from street thugs with a bloodied Rowdyruff boy. A Rowdyruff that apparently owned a motorcycle and despite his obvious lack of Chemical-X did not wear a helmet. I should go back to my hotel room, she thought. I should leave him and fly back to my hotel. But his eyes looked up at her with an urgency she'd never thought a Rowdyruff boy could feel, and she could hear the echoing footsteps of the thugs approaching, and she'd never ridden on a motorcycle before and despite all this insanity, she really wanted to ride one. Bubbles glanced over her shoulder at the direction of her hotel then got on the back of the bike. Boomer propelled them forward the second her arms had closed around his waist.

They didn't stop until they were well out of the neighborhood. Bubbles wasn't sure where they were now. She slid off the back of the bike when Boomer killed the engine. Her eyes looked at the state of him. It was clear he was in pain. His face was covered in blood and now that the adrenaline was gone he was favoring a leg. He looked an absolute mess. With a small frown as she looked at him Bubbles made a decision.

"Take me back to my hotel," she said. Boomer looked at her quizzically, his lip was split and one of his eyes was already beginning to swell shut.

"What?" He asked. His voice was deeper than she remembered it being, but then again, it had been years since they'd last seen each other.

"You need somewhere to clean up that they won't be looking for you, and I happen to have some clothes that will fit you." She tugged at the loose string on her sweater. It too had some blood stains from holding onto him. "And it's somewhere quiet that you can explain exactly what the hell is happening." Bubbles watched him with hands on her hips as he stared at her and leaned heavily against his motorcycle. For a moment, she thought he'd say no, but instead he only got back on his bike.

"Okay," he said, that voice rough with fighting back pain. "Hop on." Bubbles got on the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around his waist. She was more careful this time as she suspected his torso was covered in bruises.

Boomer took off his shirt and took in the view from her hotel room. The city lights glittered and were almost pretty if he hadn't known what happened under the glittering lights. Bubbles had left for a moment to grab some ice. She'd instructed him to take off his shirt and maybe clean some of the blood off his face. But Boomer didn't much feel like walking to the bathroom, so he sat on her bed and stared out the window.

"You didn't clean up," she commented when she walked in with ice, closing the door gently behind her. He glanced at her. She hadn't changed out of her white sweater yet, despite the blood stains on it. He felt bad. It was a nice sweater that flattered her figure. She looked cozy and regal at the same time. The fabric folded over her full figure in a way that if he wasn't in extreme pain, and she wasn't a Powerpuff, he'd probably try to flirt. Bubbles placed some ice in a towel and wrapped it before turning back to him. Those lightning blue eyes of hers focused on the injury to his head. The Powerpuff pressed the makeshift ice pack to his forehead. "Hold this," she ordered. Boomer watched her move across the room toward the bathroom. He'd have to buy her a new sweater.

When Bubbles returned she had shed her sweater and was just in a tank top and her jeans. It was even more attractive than the sweater look. Boomer swallowed as he noticed the toned muscles of her arms. It wasn't fair to him that she still had Chemical-X coursing through her veins and was so beautiful. He simply didn't deserve her gentle hands on him as she wiped the blood from one side of his face. Boomer tried not to stare, but, Heavens, she was enchanting, as if she was a goddess that had appeared to aid the hero on his epic journey. Except I'm not a hero, Boomer thought bitterly. I'm a villain of the lowest kind.

"What are you doing in New York?" She asked, her voice had deepened with age, it wasn't husky like Buttercup's had been as kids, but it had lost the bird-like chirp, it now sounded like the sound waves made when they calmly brushed the shore. What a voice.

"My brothers and I moved here when we left Townsville, after you know…" the incident. She didn't look at him as she kept cleaning his wound. "And we didn't exactly make friends."

"What was the alleyway about?" She asked. "If you don't mind me asking." He didn't mind at all. Not with one of her hands on the side of his face.

"My brothers owe some money."

"Brothers? Not you?"

"No, I left them a few months back." She stopped for the briefest of seconds when he said that.

"So you've just been alone? All this time?" Bubbles felt a bit of sadness creeping into her rapidly beating heart as she looked him in the eyes. She was glad that he didn't have any superpowers or else he'd know just how hard her heart was pounding in her chest. Boomer. The Boomer she'd grown up with. They'd spent countless hours together. Sure, they'd fought, but when their siblings had turned their backs there'd been soft glances and cheesy smiles. She had wondered alone in the dark a million times what would have become of them if only things had been different. Perhaps they would have gone past soft glances and made their ways to soft touches and a happy life. But, she thought as she wiped away the blood and noticed an old scar just beneath his right eye, I gave you that scar. Bubbles felt the sadness taking hold and slowing her heartbeat.

"Being alone isn't so bad," he said. His voice wasn't weighed down making her think he meant it. "Especially after spending so much time under Brick's control. It's nice to just, live and not be cruel to those around me." Boomer had often thought how sad a story he and his brothers had. They'd been created out of spite and to be used in someone else's schemes, they'd died, and been risen again to serve yet another villain's will, and then, they'd lost their powers after the incident. Boomer had thought they could leave villainy behind, but when children grew up in terrible circumstances, sometimes it broke them beyond repair, and Brick was broken beyond repair. It had broken Boomer's heart when they'd moved to New York City and Brick had begun scheming as if nothing was different, but everything was different. They were powerless. Boomer and Butch had been terrified in this new city but they'd felt an obligation to their brother. So they'd stayed with their blood. Boomer had finally reached his breaking point a few months ago and left. Butch still remained, thinking that perhaps he could help Brick. With a deep sadness Boomer had said farewell to his brothers. He'd never see them again. Being alone isn't so bad, he thought to himself, being a villain was worse.

"So, they're still villains?" Bubbles asked, staring down at him. He looked so sad. She wanted to hold him and never let go.

"Yeah,"

"Too bad, Buttercup would never admit it, but I know she misses Butch." Bubbles had pretended for years in the absence of the Rowdyruffs to not see the hardly noticeable slouch in her sister's shoulders when a certain counterpart was mentioned. Buttercup had relied on anger after the incident, but in Bubbles opinion, anger could only protect you for so long.

"What are you doing in New York?" Boomer asked, drawing her out of her thoughts.

"I'm being a tourist," She said with a smile. She'd always prided herself in her ability to smile, even when she lived with a breaking heart. "I saw the Statue of Liberty yesterday."

"Really?" He asked. He let himself respond to her smile.

"I didn't realize just how big it is," she said as she made her way to rinse the rag out in the bathroom. "Like, I knew it was big obviously, but holy cow it's big!" Boomer smiled at the excitement in her voice. "I was really tempted to fly to the top so I could be eye level, but Blossom told me before I left that I wasn't supposed to draw attention to myself." She returned with her purse and rummaged through it. The purse produced a small first aid kit. "And I listened like a fool." She began carefully bandaging up the wound on his forehead.

"You're far from a fool," Boomer said. He remembered the way she used to pretend not to notice the awards and trophies her sisters won back in high school and that she herself didn't have her name on a single trophy. He remembered seeing her in the library one day trying desperately to be at the same test score level as Blossom. Bubbles had her own talents, he recalled, she could create art out of anything.

"Thank you," Bubbles said. Those eyes of hers watching him. After a moment she cleared her throat. "If you want to take a shower you can. I have some clothes I bought for the Professor, but they should fit you just fine." Bubbles busied herself with rummaging through her suitcase. Boomer pretended not to notice the loose bra. He wasn't fourteen after all, he could spot a bra and not get all uncomfortable. He thanked her as she handed him the set of clothes and then he escaped to the bathroom.

Bubbles was horrified. She'd left her bra right in the open. She knew they weren't kids and Heavens knew this wasn't the first bra of hers he'd seen, but it was still embarrassing. She huffed to herself. She had wanted to snag the bra and hide it the instant she'd opened her suitcase, but then he would have seen what was underneath; an emergency dose of Chemical-X. Blossom insisted that wherever Bubbles go, she have an emergency dose. The blonde had complied but now she knew she had to hide it from Boomer. As much as she'd disagreed with the Boys losing their powers it had been the people of Townsville that had decided. After the incident, no one wanted to trust the adoptive sons of the Devil himself. Blossom, despite still bearing scars, had even fought in the defense of Boomer and his brothers. Buttercup had remained silent in the aftermath of the incident. The rage in her eyes had been enough. Bubbles could still remember the way Butch had shrunk back under her sister's gaze. She would never say it out loud, but Bubbles knew that there was only one way for eyes to hold so much rage when they looked at someone. It could only happen if those eyes had looked at them with love once. Buttercup had never admitted it. She didn't need to. Bubbles knew that even if Buttercup didn't realize it, she'd given her heart away to the green eyed Rowdyruff. Perhaps that was why her sister never spoke of the Boys. She couldn't open herself up to the pain. There was a chance Buttercup never would.

Bubbles buzzed her lips to distract herself as she took her emergency Chemical-X from her suitcase and slipped it into her purse. It was best she kept it close to her. She had no idea of knowing what could happen.

She was asleep when Boomer came out of the shower. Bubbles had curled up on the bed. She looked adorable. Boomer moved as quietly as he could. His hand rested on the doorknob. He knew he should leave. He had no reason to stay. Just being here put her in danger. He knew that. He knew he should leave. She shifted a moment later.

"If you leave now, you really will be the Dumb and the Dumbest, Rowdy," she murmured, not bothering to open her eyes. "You're hurt. Get over here and rest." He didn't need much more convincing. He was so tired, and she had left half the bed empty for him. Boomer moved toward the bed. She shifted to move the covers aside. There was a strangeness that washed over him. How many nights had he dreamed of laying at her side? How many nights had he spent dreaming of the way her hair fell around her shoulders? Or the lightning strike that was her eyes? He settled down next to her .

"Don't look so scared, Boomer. I don't bite." That little smile playing on her face made his heart flutter. He closed his eyes, hoping he could get any sleep with her right there.

Bubbles loved the number of cafes she could find in New York. In her arms she was carrying so many muffins, and scones, and bagels that she wasn't sure she and Boomer would be able to eat them all. She bustled about the New York streets humming quietly to herself. That was when she spotted the motorcycle. The paint job caught her attention. There were green flames dancing along the fuel tank. Amongst the flames was the figure of a young woman. Her features were lost in the shadows dancing on her skin but her eyes blazed on their own. Those eyes were the exact same shade of fearless green as Buttercup's eyes. Bubbles tilted her head, looking for the signature of the artist.

"He doesn't sign his work," A woman's voice chirped. She was clad in biker leather and held a coffee cup in her hand. "He never signs, but it's hard to mistake him for anyone else."

"The paint job is incredible!" Bubbles beamed. The woman grinned.

"Cost me an arm and a leg, but it looks killer. I originally just wanted flames." The woman took a swig of her drink. "When it comes to this guy though, you get what he gives you, and he was not going to be talked out of putting the chick on it." Bubbles blinked at the fuel tank. The art truly was exceptional. It was rendered with such care that she didn't even think the great painters of the Renaissance could compete. She couldn't get over the eyes. It felt like her sister was here in New York staring at her.

"What is the artist's name?" Bubbles asked. The woman laughed.

"He doesn't give out his name; you gotta stop by his shop if you want any information on him. Guy does tattoos, as well." The woman pulled down the hem of her shirt to reveal lightning covering her upper torso. In the shadows of the lightning strikes it seemed as if a woman danced in them. The silhouette stretched out her arms in elegance. The only feature that was discernible was pale pink lips parted as the lightning around her gave her body form. The figure was powerful and serene, but a sense of longing washed over Bubbles. There was a sadness in the ink. A desire for something she couldn't name. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Oh my gosh! I've never wanted a tattoo so much in my entire life," Bubbles squealed. She had never entertained the thought of tattoos. No one could manage to pierce her skin with the needle, but the intricacy of the lightning dancer sparked a wanting in Bubbles. She wanted to bare such elegant art on her own skin. "Can you give me the address?"

Boomer bolted awake at the explosion of energy when Bubbles returned to the hotel room. Her hair bounced in the sunlight as she practically fluttered around the room.

"I'm getting a motorcycle!" She cheered. Boomer blinked.

"What?" He asked. Bubbles shoved a muffin in his face.

"I'm getting a motorcycle, come on, let's go."

"Wait hold on! Those guys from last night will be looking all over for me," Boomer protested. Bubbles paused, then a sneaky smile crept onto her face. He felt his face go red knowing she'd be able to hear the rapid increase of his heartbeat.

"Don't worry, Rowdy, I'll protect you." She seemed unaware of just how close she was. Boomer bit his lip as he cursed silently to himself. Her hands gripped his arms and he didn't think he'd ever felt such a warm grasp. He felt himself longing to close the small distance between his lips and hers. She stepped away gently. "Let's go, I wanna get myself a Motorcycle! Oh, Blossom is gonna freak, and Buttercup is going to be so jealous!" Boomer smiled softly to himself. He just hoped they weren't going to his motorcycle shop. Those were demons she didn't need to meet.

Evidently, he didn't need to worry. Bubbles got so distracted by store windows and sales that by the time she was ready to look for the shop, it was dinner time and she let her stomach lead them to their next stop. Boomer wasn't complaining, she had excellent taste in food. They were at a small Korean joint that served the best Korean barbecue Boomer had ever had.

"I didn't even know this place was here!" Boomer moaned as he took a bite of his food. Bubbles giggled.

"This is your city, Boomer, you should know how to find good food." She had a smear of sauce on her cheek. He had been a bit surprised when Bubbles had dug into her food with no restraints. She didn't seem concerned with appearances, so far from the girl he'd secretly taken to dinner all those years ago. They'd both lied to their siblings to sneak away and go out. "I've found that there's more important things in life than being concerned with what I look like when I eat." Bubbles wiped her mouth. He hadn't realized he was staring. "I just think I'm worth more than someone who judges on how a girl eats. I am worth all the love in the world." Boomer blinked.

"I wasn't judging," he said. She looked at him. That sneaky smile of hers had returned.

"I know, but I thought you should know that I'm not that shy girl you stole glances at back then. I'm not a kid, I've grown up and I know my worth." She leaned her elbows on the table as she looked at him. Those eyes were like lightning waiting to strike.

"I'm not the same kid I was back then either," he managed. He felt like she was accusing him of something. He just didn't know what it was. Her eyes trailed his body slowly.

"I know," she teased. Her eyes held mischief. "You're much hotter. I never thought you'd pull off the bad boy look, that was Butch's deal, but I think he may have to give up his throne." He felt his face go red. She laughed. "All seriousness, Boomer, I can tell you're different. You walked away from your brothers and that takes a lot of courage to admit when your family isn't good for you. I respect that. It looks to me that you know your worth too." Boomer didn't return her smile. He did know his worth. He knew what he deserved, and it wasn't to have such a beautiful woman staring at him.

"Rowdy, do you know your worth?" She asked. Boomer met her gaze. There was so much kindness in those eyes. So much kindness that he wanted to give into them. He forced a smile.

"Of course," He said. He hated how naturally his tongue curled around the lie. Boomer cleared his throat. "If we wanna get your bike tomorrow, I should drop you off at your hotel room so you can get some sleep."

"Why aren't you turning the engine off?" She asked when they'd stopped in front of her hotel.

"I was heading home?" Boomer replied. Her hands reached forward and gently tugged at the collar of her shirt.

"That's ridiculous," she said softly. "You said those guys will be looking for you everywhere. Your place is the worst place for you to go. Come on, you can sleep here again." Her fingers were cool where they brushed against his neck. Boomer wondered if she knew just how intoxicating her touch was. He felt like he was floating with just the brush of her fingertips. Just the thought of what it might feel like if her hands trailed along his body was enough to get someone high. He killed the engine.

Bubbles felt electricity spark through her where her fingers brushed his bare skin. Heavens, it felt like she was soaring just with the little contact. She knew she was being smart by telling him to stay. He couldn't go home. Those men would be waiting for him. The desire for him to stay however, had nothing to do with his safety, and more to do with not wanting those dark eyes of his to go. She'd always marveled at the way his eyes were so dark that the blueness of them nearly vanished at night. Forcing her hands to let him go when he'd killed the engine was surprisingly one of the most difficult things she'd ever done. As they walked up to her room his hands hung at his sides and she fought the urge to take them in her own. Climbing into bed beside him, she ignored the urge to curl into his side. Boomer was her great temptation. The temptation she had had all her life, but she had learned not to indulge in. She'd done that once and he'd lost the Chemical-X in his veins. He didn't seem to have much else left to lose. She couldn't bear to do him anymore harm. Long after he'd fallen asleep she lay awake and studied his face. That little scar she'd given him so long ago seemed silver in the moonlight. She had given him a scar when he'd still been super-powered. She would never forget just how hard she'd hit him. Sometimes, she still felt the ache in her hand from that punch. Yes, he was her great temptation, but she was his great destruction.

He borrowed one of her sweaters the next day. She tried to steady her heartbeat. The blue cashmere made his edges softer. His eyes lost a little of their darkness. She'd never thought someone could look so enticing. He was like her own personal brand of heroine. Bubbles busied herself by looking through her purse as he ordered coffee at the little cafe they'd stopped at. He'd pulled his hair into a half up half down look and Bubbles had cursed everything that was holy. It simply wasn't fair. He was just so damn attractive.

"What are you doing?" Boomer asked. Bubbles was certain she was flushed bright red as she realized she was staring.

"Just trying to think of what I want for breakfast," she squeaked. She redirected her eyes to the pastry cabinet. "It's a tough question." He shrugged and seemed convinced.

"So why the sudden urge to get a motorcycle?" Boomer asked after Bubbles had chosen a raspberry danish.

"I saw this really cool paint job on one and I found out the artist only does motorcycles or tattoos. I wanted a tattoo, except with my skin I can't do that, so motorcycle it was!" She beamed. Something shifted in his eyes. He didn't say anything beyond that. They had left his bike at the hotel opting to walk. The sun was out and Bubbles marveled at the way his hair seemed to be woven of strands of gold.

"Where is this motorcycle shop?" He asked her. She blinked before looking around them. With her heightened eyesight she spotted the street they needed to turn on three blocks away. Without thinking Bubbles grabbed his hand and led him along. The sensation of his palm pressed against her sent Bubbles reeling. It wasn't the good kind of reeling. She was suddenly seventeen again. Bright red eyes burned in her mind with terrifying anger. Smoke billowed out of his nose as the fire heated within his chest. The holler of rage at the sight of hands held tight. She heard Blossom scream as lightning burned her skin. The smell of cooked flesh. The sweat that had clung to Blossom as she'd been rushed to the hospital. There were two pairs of green eyes filled with confusion and concern, but ultimately being pulled apart by ties of blood. Bubbles let go of his hand. He didn't react. They walked in silence.

When they were half a block away Boomer's face went pale. His eyes zipped back and forth.

"Bubbles, we have to turn back. We can't go to this shop." He caught her wrist. Bubbles turned back to him.

"What? Why?" She asked. He swallowed.

"We just can't," He insisted. That was when Bubbles realized it was too late. Her eyes caught on to the well hidden figures that had closed in around them. They were surrounded. She planted her feet. She could take them. There were what looked like fifteen of them. It wouldn't be a breeze, but she could take them.

"Boomer," She let her voice go low. The warning she knew she'd placed in her eyes radiated toward the men. "Run." She dodged the first punch with ease. She sidestepped and tripped the first attacker. Her muscles readied for the excitement of a fight. Boomer was no longer in her line of vision. Good, she thought, he ran. Bubbles fell into the familiar sensation of taking and giving punches. She kicked, punched, and spun. Bubbles watched every move her opponents made just like Blossom had taught her. Number eight had a slight limp. Number eleven favored his right side. Number three had a switchblade that he thought would do damage on her. She smiled to herself. Silly little boy, she was a Powerpuff it took more than a switchblade to hurt her. She heard the click of someone removing the safety on a gun. Her blood ran cold. A gun might do something to her. Bubbles didn't have time to locate the weapon before someone had called her name and a shot rang out. The body hit her back a second later. Bubbles stumbled forward as she turned to see the smoke of a gun barrel. At her feet lay Boomer. She screamed.

"Boomer!" Her hands flew to the bleeding wound. Pressing down on the wound would stop the bleeding right? That's what they did on all the crime shows Buttercup watched. She looked around her. The attackers were closing in. Bubbles sucked in a breath ready to unleash a sonic scream.

"Everyone back the fuck up! Why the hell is there a gun firing on my street?" The surrounding ring of people parted. A tall man appeared in the space created. His inhumanly dark green eyes widened. There wasn't much else of a reaction on Butch's face. He halted where he was. Bubbles looked up at him.

"Butch! Please," she begged. A hand grabbed her wrist. Boomer coughed.

"Oh fuck, this hurts," Boomer managed through gritted teeth. "You need to run." Bubbles shook her head.

"I'm not leaving you!" She cried. "Butch, help me." Butch still hadn't moved. He was staring down at his bleeding brother. Bubbles wasn't sure she'd survive the twisting of her heartstrings as Boomer coughed again. His face was getting pale. The bullet had to have hit something crucial. There was no other that he'd be getting cold so quickly. Bubbles looked up a Butch, her eyes pleading. He didn't move a muscle.

"What do you want us to do, boss?" Number five asked. Finally, there was a reaction from Butch.

"Why in the hell, was there a gun on my street?" Butch seethed. "I thought I was very clear that this was a no guns block." Number five stepped back.

"Boss, your brother was very clear that Boomer wasn't allowed back on the block. And this chick just went batshit crazy on us." Bubbles felt Boomer grabbing at her shirt. She looked down at him. She could feel Butch's eyes on them.

"Get out of here," Boomer said. There was sweat covering his brow. He didn't look good.

"I'm not leaving you," she whispered.

"You have to run, please. You're not safe, he'll know you're here."

"I don't care who knows I'm here, I'm not leaving you."

"Please, Bubbles!" Boomer coughed. Butch froze.

"Bubbles?" He hissed. She looked up at him. Had he not recognized her until now?

"Boss," Number five said. Butch grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled Number five within a inch of his face.

"You speak of this to no one. Brick doesn't find out, am I understood?" Butch demanded.

"Boss, we gotta report to Brick," Number seven chimed in.

"No one speaks of this to anyone!" Butch roared. "If even so much as an inkling gets to Brick I will personally see to it that you never see the light of day again. Am. I. Under. Stood?" The green eyed Rowdyruff carefully dragged his eyes over each of the attackers.

"Understood," Number five squeaked. Butch flung him to the side.

"Good, now get out of my sight," He ordered as he knelt down next to Bubbles and his brother. "Shit, Boomer, you really got yourself fucked up." Boomer grabbed at Butch's shirt.

"You gotta get her outta here," Boomer begged. Butch took his hand.

"Brick won't find out she's here, I promise," Butch promised as he moved some hair from Boomer's face. "Just try to relax."

"Did someone call 911?" Bubbles asked. Her heart was in the bottom of her stomach. She couldn't let Boomer die. He had to know. He had to know. She needed to tell him that he was the love of her life and telling him while he was covered in blood felt like a cash out. He needed to know. He needed to live so he could be the love of her entire life.

"No one's coming, Bubbles," Butch spoke so calmly that it took a moment for her to realize the gravity of his words. She blinked through her tears.

"What?" She gasped.

"Look at how much blood he's lost," Butch said. "There's no coming back from this." No. He had to be lying. A cold despair swept over her as she remembered that Butch Jojo was many things; A liar had never been one of them. Butch was honest to a fault. That was something Buttercup had loved about him.

There had to be something Bubbles could do for Boomer. There had to be some way to save him. Something. Something. Anything. She couldn't fight the violent sobs consuming her. Boomer tried to wipe the tears from her cheeks, but all that did was smear blood onto her face. Bubbles hated that he was trying to comfort her. He was the one bleeding out. She was supposed to cry over him. She hadn't cried this hard since he'd lost his Chemi-. Bubbles stopped crying abruptly. There was a way to save him. Chemical-X. She had the emergency dose in her purse. She fumbled through her purse frantically. The second her fingers brushed the bottle Butch leapt forward. His hand closed over hers.

"Not here," he hissed looking around. "Where are you staying?"

"A-a few blocks away," Bubbles sputtered. Butch swept Boomer up in his arms.

"We can't have anyone on these streets seeing that," Butch said. Bubbles scrambled to her feet. "Get us to wherever you're staying, then you can save my brother's life." Boomer coughed as his head lulled into Butch's chest. Bubbles nodded and took off running. She doubted she'd ever run so fast. Butch's feet were a steady sound following her. Hotel staff turned a blind eye when Bubbles glared at anyone who thought to question their bursting into the luxury hotel with a bloodied man in tow. The worst moment was when her hands wouldn't stop shaking to unlock her room.

"Oh fuck it!" She screeched. Bubbles kicked in the door. Butch didn't waste any time putting Boomer down on the bed. Bubbles cursed as her hands wouldn't stop shaking long enough to fill a syringe with Chemical-X.

"Give it to me," Butch said. He took the bottle and syringe from her hands gently. A few moments later, the chemical had been injected into Boomer's arm. Bubbles scrambled onto the bed and cradled Boomer's head in her lap.

"Come on, Rowdy, please," she begged. His skin stayed pale and cold. No. No. No. He'd gotten Chemical-X. He couldn't die. He couldn't. She hadn't told him yet. At some point on the way to her room he had closed his eyes. Her heart felt like it was being ripped out. She'd been so busy running she hadn't even noticed him close his eyes. Now he'd never open them again. She cried. Bubbles sobbed until the sun had long set. "Boomer, please." A heavy hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up at the tear blurred face of Butch. She could faintly make out the paint stains on his clothing underneath all the blood.

"Bubbles," Butch spoke. His voice was thick.

"She still loves you," Bubbles blurted out. His face twisted in confusion.

"What?"

"Buttercup, she'll never admit it, but I can tell. She still loves you," Bubbles cried. A softness crossed over Butch's pained features.

"Why are you telling me?" Butch asked. He looked down at his brother's lifeless face. There was so much torment on his own that Bubbles wondered if he'd ever feel anything else again.

"Because, if that was your artwork I saw on that motorcycle, then you're still in love with her, and," Bubbles sniffed. Is this what it feels like to die on the inside? She thought as she looked down at Boomer's face. "At least one of us deserves to be with the person they love before it's too late. Go back, go back to Townsville." Butch leaned forward and planted a kiss onto Boomer's temple. There was so much pain in his eyes, but so much softness. She'd never seen such softness on the Rowdyruff boy's face. Bubbles buried her own face in Boomer's chest. When she looked back up Butch was gone. She cried in her empty hotel room. She no longer liked the feeling of being alone in a big city.

"Bubbles." Her voice came out so soft that even with super-hearing she thought she'd imagined it. Her eyes darted up. In the pale moonlight he seemed almost like a ghost. For a moment she didn't think he was real, but his eyes held such emotion that he had to be alive. No ghost could have that much feeling. "Bubbles," he said again, this time louder.

"Boomer!" She yelled as she flung her arms around him. A small laugh escaped her. Boomer's arms wrapped around her. They held her fast. A soft sigh left Boomer.

"Bubbles," he repeated and suddenly this city didn't seem so big, or so unfamiliar.

The morning came too early for Bubbles as she realized her flight left in a few hours back to Townsville. She crept out of bed. Boomer still lay sound asleep. Bubbles slipped into the shower. In their exhaustion from the day, neither she nor Boomer had taken a moment to wash up. Her clothes were stiff with dried blood and her cheeks were colored a rusty brown where he'd brushed the tears away. With a sigh Bubbles tossed her clothes into the garbage. She couldn't return home with clothes covered in blood. Blossom would ask too many questions. Bubbles wasn't sure how much of the last few days she'd tell her sisters. She was pretty certain she was going to leave out the being covered in blood part.

Boomer woke up to the sound of crying. He could hear it so clearly that it nearly gave him a migraine. He'd forgotten how much super hearing could affect someone. The young man sat up and followed the sound to the bathroom. His body felt sore but his wounds had healed otherwise as he tapped the door gently.

"Bubbles?" He called. He heard a sniff muted by the sound of running water. Why was she crying in the shower? "Are you okay?"

"C-come in," she said softly. He hesitated a moment then heard another sniff. He opened the door to find her sitting on the bottom of the shower. She rubbed viciously against her skin. "I can't get it off." He wasn't sure what she meant until he caught a glance of his own skin in the mirror. The blood stains.

"Here," Boomer said, stepping into the shower with his clothes still on. He lifted her to her feet and took the bar of soap from her hand. He rubbed the soap onto her skin. The water and blood mixed, leaving them standing in a pool of disturbing pink. "Look, it's coming out just fine. You're okay." He pressed their foreheads together at the look in her eyes. "We're both okay." Her fingers moved gently to the hem of the sweater he was wearing. A minute later and they were both naked. There was nothing arousing about it. Boomer looked at the sadness on her face as she rubbed the soap into his chest. The soapy bubbles were colored a deep pink with blood. He wiped at her cheeks trying to return them to their usual blush.

"Come home with me," she said softly. He pushed her hair out of her face.

"I can't," he replied. Hurt crossed her features. "I want to, Bubbles, but I have something I have to do first." She nodded.

"Okay, I'll push back my flight." He tilted her chin up. She was so close. Her lips were merely inches from his. All he had to do was lean in and kiss her. All he had ever wanted to do was lean in and kiss her.

"No," he whispered. "You should go home, see your sisters. I'll come as soon as I can. I don't know how long it'll take me." Bubbles closed her eyes as she leaned into his shoulder.

"Okay," her voice was so soft. "But if I don't hear from you I'm coming back here and kicking New York City's collective ass. Understood?" He laughed.

"Understood." He pulled her close into a hug.

Butch's shop was closed so Boomer let himself in. It was quieter than it had ever been. Boomer couldn't remember the last time the shop had been so silent. He glanced at the art displayed on the walls. Paintings and drawings of natural elements or disasters all boasted a woman hiding within them. All her features were never displayed in one artwork, it was only ever one detail. She was rendered with such accuracy that it only took one those features to know who this entire wall was a practical shrine for. Buttercup had been the only person Butch had dreamed of. As far as Boomer knew Butch hadn't dated in their years away from Townsville. Butch hadn't even partaken in hook-ups like Boomer had. There was only one person that ever attracted Butch like that and she was back in Townsville.

Boomer found his brother drinking in the corner looking at the wall. He was half covered in shadow. On the floor lay shattered pieces of glass and several broken chairs. Butch didn't look away from the wall when Boomer sat down next to him. The blond could see the bruises covering his brother's knuckles. Butch had always dealt with pain in two different ways; adding to his Buttercup shrine or violence. It seemed he'd dealt with Boomer nearly dying the violent way.

"Glad to see you aren't dead," Butch said. He offered Boomer a beer. The two brothers sat there and drank. They didn't speak for several hours.

"I'm going back to Townsville," Boomer broke the silence as Butch handed him another beer. His brother grunted. "I want you to come with me." It was silent for a moment.

"Why would I do that?" Butch asked, cocking a eyebrow.

"Dude, we've been staring at your Buttercup shrine for the last three hours," Boomer argued. All he got in response was a shrug.

"Where are you going to get the cash for a cross country move? Or are you planning on sleeping on the streets when you get there?" The voice filled the room with heat. Boomer turned to see Brick in the doorway. His blood ran cold. It was clear that Brick himself had seen a fight today. His lip was split open and his hands covered in black and blue. "Or are you forgetting your debt?"

"I don't owe anyone any money," Boomer said. If Brick had still had his powers smoke would be pouring out of his nose. "That's you, Brick. Besides, you don't even want me here."

"Careful, Dumbass," Brick warned. Those red eyes of his looked dangerous. "I've already had to deal with one idiot today." Butch lifted a beer to his lips. "You aren't leaving New York."

"Brick, I want to go home."

"What you want is to go crawling back to that Powerpuff pussy," his red haired brother spat.

"Don't call her that!" Boomer yelled.

"That's why you're going back to Townsville," Brick continued. "You're selling out your family for-"

"Bullshit! We haven't been family in years. Never once have you acted like a real brother. I didn't break my arm last year falling down the stairs." Boomer watched the anger in Brick's demeanor grow.

"I'd choose your next words very carefully," Brick seethed. Boomer opened his mouth to argue. Finally, Butch moved. He stood up, moving out of the shadows. The right side of his face was beaten badly. His eye was swollen shut.

"Boomer, it's no use. Nobody's leaving New York." Butch sounded resigned. The sadness crept into his shoulders. They slumped just the tiniest bit. "Let's all just take a breather."

"Like hell it's no use! Butch, you never wanted to leave Townsville. You told us you didn't want to leave and we did. You've spent the last seven years miserable and pining over Buttercup, because I wasn't brave enough to tell Brick that he could suck a dick!" Boomer yelled. "Then I left and you felt some sense of responsibility to him. But I'm sick of being alone! I'm sick of seeing you staring at this damn wall. I'm sick of us wasting our lives trying to help a brother that hasn't been our brother since we were children. He's just like Mojo and Him. Brick is a villain with no redemption, but there's hope for us! I know my worth! I'm worthy of feeling something that isn't this hollowness. You're worthy of more than spending your life drawing a woman you'll never touch. So don't tell me there's no use. I will fight until I die to go home." Everything went still for a moment as Butch stared at him. His green eyes showed every emotion that was churning around inside Boomer. Butch didn't move. All he did was stare. Cruel laughter filled the room.

"How touching," Brick mocked. "I must say I'm really touched by your words." No one moved a muscle as Brick made his way over to Boomer. Their faces were inches apart. "Do you want me to be the villain? Because I can be the villain." The click of the gun sounded. Butch dove into action but stopped a second later. Boomer had grabbed the barrel of the gun and crushed it in his grip. Brick and Butch stared.

"How?" Brick asked wide eyed.

"When your boy shot me yesterday Bubbles had to give me a dose of Chemical-X." Boomer flung the useless gun to the floor. "Thanks for proving me right though. Now, if you'll excuse me, my brother and I are going home." He shoved Brick out of his way. Butch quietly grabbed the keys to his motorcycle as he followed Boomer out of the shop.

"We're really leaving?" Butch asked as the two brothers got on their respective bikes.

"Yeah," Boomer smiled. He suddenly felt very light. Butch grinned. Boomer hadn't seen him smile in so long.

"Let's go home, shall we?"

Bubbles had been home for two weeks with no word from Boomer. She hadn't mentioned a word of his appearance to her family. She didn't want them to worry that she'd gotten herself into trouble the moment she'd left Townsville. Bubbles went through her normal activities constantly looking to the doorway in hopes of seeing him. Every time she didn't see him she worried a little more.

Blossom and Buttercup watched their sister move like a zombie. Bubbles hadn't been her usual self since she'd come back from New York. The two sisters had made a point for at least one of them to stop by Bubbles' apartment everyday. They were getting worried. She just moved around in a daze. She'd started a painting, but hadn't let them see the work in progress like she was prone to.

"Dude, it's like she's straight out of the Walking Dead. Maybe the zombie apocalypse has started," Buttercup said as she and Blossom sat at their favorite coffee shop. Normally, Bubbles would be at the table with them talking excitedly about some new art project she was working on. Today, she was still curled up in bed.

"Do you think something happened in New York?" Blossom asked. Buttercup sighed.

"What on Earth could have happened at a bunch of art museums that would have resulted in this?" Buttercup leaned back in her chair. The roar of motorcycles turned down the street. The green eyed Powerpuff didn't turn to look at the sound. She closed her eyes for a moment. "Do you think she's having a crisis because she thinks she's not as good as that Da Vini dude?"

"It's Da Vinci, and I highly doubt that." Blossom sounded distracted. Buttercup heard the motorcycle engines die. She opened her eyes to look at her sister. Blossom was blatantly staring at something behind her.

"The hell are you staring at, Pinky?" Buttercup asked. Her sister pointed to just over her shoulder. Buttercup groaned as she turned around. "What is someone wearing misma-" Her words escaped her. The motorcycles had stopped at the bakery a couple shops over. The bikers hadn't seemed to spot them. Buttercup's feet moved of their own free will.

"Hey Jackass!" She screamed. The bikers finally turned to her. It was like that moment in all of Bubbles' tacky romance movies. He turned to look at her and everything stopped mattering. Her heart hammered in her chest.

"Buttercup," he said. He had no right to sound so painstakingly the same. She stopped a few feet away from him. Butch blinked. His right eye had the tell tale colors of a fading black eye. There was suddenly someone in this world that she wanted to hit more than she wanted to hit Butch. They stared at each other as Blossom approached and gripped her sister's arm.

"Boomer, what are you two doing back in town?" Blossom asked.

"We wanted to come home," Butch said. His gaze hadn't left Buttercup's. There was burning anger in her eyes, but it was quickly giving way to hurt.

"You left," her voice came out strained.

"I thought it would be better that way," Butch said.

"You were wrong!" Buttercup shouted. Passersby gave her curious looks. "No one in the history of the world has ever been so wrong!"

"I know," Butch said. "I'm sorry."

"That's not good enough!" Buttercup huffed.

"If it'll help he's spent the last seven years drawing you like some love sick puppy," Boomer chimed in. Butch turned to his brother.

"Dude."

"Sorry, just trying to help."

"Don't try to help, you're making me seem like a pervert." Butch's face was beat red.

"Hey! I'm trying to yell at you for leaving, stop arguing with your brother," Buttercup yelled. Both brothers turned back to her. Her eyes were rimmed with pink.

"Shit, please don't cry," Butch said. He held up his hands.

"Fuck you! I will cry if I want," Buttercup huffed. "I'm emotionally conflicted right now."

"Buttercup," Blossom said softly.

"Shut up. I'm yelling at Butch for leaving," Buttercup snapped. Blossom let go of her sister's arm in surrender.

"Boomer, you want breakfast? I'll get you something while Buttercup yells at Butch for leaving." Blossom grabbed Boomer's wrist and sped them into the bakery.

"You can yell all you want, I kind of earned it," Butch said.

"I am well aware that I can yell all I want! You left with no warning; couldn't even be bothered to tell me in a text message." Buttercup placed her hands on her hips. "And seven years! Seven years you had to call me. I didn't change my phone number in all this time so that you could reach me. Also, you could have very well have sent a letter. The United States has this really cool thing called the postal service for just that reason! It's super easy you just write your letter, stick it in an envelope, slap an address and stamp on it and viola! In 3-7 business days I'd know if you were okay. Stop laughing, I'm yelling at you." Buttercup's anger was undercut by her own laughter.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry I really am, but I never thought I'd hear you angrily lecture someone on how the postal service works." Butch bit his fist to keep from laughing too hard. Buttercup's face flushed bright red.

"Stop laughing!" Buttercup grabbed him by the collar. The laughter left his face as their eyes locked. "I thought you'd moved on. That you'd never wanted me." Her voice was quiet in a way Butch hoped no one else had gotten to hear.

"There's no moving on from you, Utonium," he said. "I can't imagine a life where I didn't want you."

"Evidently, there's no moving on from you either, Jojo" She said. Her bright eyes looked up at his face. Butch couldn't bare it any longer. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. For one terrifying moment she didn't move, then her arms wrapped around his waist. She tasted like coffee and happiness.

Boomer thanked Blossom for breakfast as they watched their siblings kiss.

"My pleasure," Blossom said. "I'm glad they solved this without any property damage. Do you remember when they got in that argument about who was the best basketball player in the league?"

"Yeah, neither of those players were even in the league." Boomer and Blossom shared a laugh.

"You here for Bubbles?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah."

"Just a warning, she went on a trip a few weeks ago and she's not her usual self." Blossom tucked some hair behind her ear. "She might not be how you remember her."

"I just saw her in New York," Boomer offered. Blossom's eyes widen. "Shit got bad, where's her apartment?"

"You remember where old Mrs. Keller used to live?" Blossom asked.

"Yeah."

"That's the place," She smiled. "Now go see my sister." She gave Boomer a wink before settling her purse on her shoulder and turning to head home. Blossom had a feeling her sisters were going to be busy for a few days.

A knock sounded on her door. Bubbles rolled her eyes. Her sisters were not as subtle as they thought they were with their daily visits. She pondered in her head which sibling it was as she opened the door.

"What is it n-" her words died in her chest. Boomer stood before her. His hair was an absolute mess from the wind. She squealed.

"Boomer!" Her arms were around him before she'd even finished saying his name. He laughed as he held her tight giving her a little spin.

"Bubbles," He whispered as he placed her on the ground again. "I'm sorry it took so long. Butch had a really bad black eye so we couldn't drive too fast because he had absolutely no depth perception and also driving cross-country on a motorcycle is not that comfortable."

"All that matters is you're here and you're safe. Speaking of Butch," Bubbles said and pulled him into her apartment. She bounced over to a canvas with a sheet over it. With child-like enthusiasm she tore away the cover. Boomer stopped. On the canvas was himself. His painted self leaned against a motorcycle with the sunlight bouncing off the chrome. He was leaning with his hands in his pockets and looking off to the side. Boomer half expected the painting to start breathing. "What do you say? Do you think I reached Butch's level of skill?"

"Butch's art is shit compared to this," Boomer said. "But I may be biased because it's you." She laughed.

"I'm glad you like it. Now come here," her lips curled around the words in the most enticing way Boomer had ever seen. He obliged her. She felt perfect in his arms. She felt even more perfect when she tilted her head up and kissed him. Boomer had never felt this way before. She surrounded him with nothing more than her lips against his. He tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her like he'd never kissed anyone. When they split for air Bubbles curled her arms around his neck. "What are you still doing in those clothes, biker boy?"

"I have no idea," he said against her lips.

"I guess we'll have to remedy that?" She laughed. Boomer kissed her again. He was finally home.


	2. Chapter 2: Home Bittersweet Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after Boomer and Butch return to Townsville, Blossom realizes just what they suffered at the hands of their brother. Going undercover as motor cycle mechanic, Blossom goes to New York City on her own to decide the fate of Brick. Soon, Blossom is forced to face her own emotions and discover the other reason she came to New York. Brick is haunted by ghosts of the past as a mysteriously familiar woman enters his shop.
> 
> Special Thanks to my betas on tumblr: over-under-through1 and mth-ppg-trashcan

Big cities didn't have the same appeal for Blossom Utonium as they did for her sisters. Her blue-eyed sister had reunited with the love of her life in a big city. It was hard not to love places that reminded you of your true love, Blossom had to give Bubbles that. Buttercup was just a fan of the noise. She and Butch had taken a vacation to Los Angeles last summer and she'd spent months afterwards talking about how there was always something happening. Normally, Blossom had a photo of the two at the beach hanging on her fridge. Today, however, the photo was tucked in her purse as she stepped off the New York City subway. The day she'd gotten the photos from Buttercup and Butch was when she'd first spotted the scars on Butch's chest. With Blossom's natural protectiveness of Townsville citizens, she'd asked where he'd gotten them. Butch had shrugged and given her an excuse regarding working with motorcycles. He'd quickly changed the subject. Blossom had been willing to leave it at that until she'd spotted scars on Boomer during a family trip to the beach a month ago. Boomer had tried to avoid her questions, but after a look at Butch and Buttercup with their daughter on the shore, Boomer told Blossom the truth. They were from their brother in New York, Brick. Blossom had started planning her trip to the city that second. No one harmed a member of her family and got away with it.

The heat caused her shirt to cling to her in sweat. Blossom was wearing her favorite turtleneck in the late July air. She couldn't risk anyone seeing her own scar. A lightning burn scar was a rather nasty looking thing and she wasn't after attention. She was on a mission. Blossom blinked in the afternoon light as she climbed the stairs to the sidewalk. Her family believed that she was in Paris. Silly, really, for them to believe that she'd go so far from Townsville; but she was very grateful that they believed the lie. They never would have allowed her to go to the home of Brick Jojo on her own. Certainly not Butch, who had somehow become her best friend in the last three years since his return to her city. He would have likely locked her in a closet and not let her out. The green-eyed man may not have had Chemical-X in his veins but he was still a force to be reckoned with. That was one of her favorite things about the man. He never let his lack of superpowers stop him. Part of her wondered if he'd been fighting back when he'd gotten his scars. Something in his eyes told her that wasn't true. Funny, she thought, Butch could fight anyone in the world but his brother. Never his blood.

"Watch it, red!" A rough voice barked as they bumped into Blossom. Her sunglasses clattered to the ground. Feet trampled the frames before she even had a chance to grab for it. She sighed. Blossom was glad she'd put in her colored contacts before she'd left her hotel room. The redhead looked at the world with newly brown eyes. No one could tell she wasn't entirely human now.

"Sorry," Blossom muttered. The owner of the rough voice was already gone. She moved along on her path. There wasn't much that could dissuade her now. She'd come too far.

The motorcycle shop was full of life as she walked up. Mechanics were laughing and working. One whistled at her but Blossom paid no mind. She had a feeling she knew more about those bikes than they did. Not many knew just how handy with a wrench the Queen of Everything Nice was. Butch and Boomer had certainly been surprised when she'd helped fix their bikes on a few occasions.

"What can I do for you, sweetie?" One of the mechanics asked. Blossom placed a hand on her hip.

"I'm looking for a job, buddy," she responded curtly. She wasn't lying. As far as her family knew she would be gone for a long time; she'd told them the lie that she needed an extended break from being a superhero. "Word on the street is this is the best shop in New York City."

"Honey," a brand new voice called. This one was familiar, it echoed from years ago. Last time Blossom had heard it, there'd been shouting, an outburst that put her in the hospital. Underneath her shirt Blossom could feel her scar as she turned to come face to face with Brick Jojo. She wasn't surprised to see him in a long sleeve shirt like her. Brick hadn't worn short sleeves since they were children. "We aren't hiring, and we sure as hell don't hire little girls that are bored and wanna play at mechanic."

"Honey, I'm not bored," Blossom said. For a moment she thought he might recognize her, but apparently the brown contacts and haircut had done the trick. There was no recognition in his red eyes. She blinked. "And I probably know more about motorcycles than half the guys in this shop." Blossom was certain of that; an eidetic memory helped a great deal. A scowl twisted his features. Blossom had never seen such a repulsive face. Her blood boiled in anger. This was the face of the man that had harmed Butch and Boomer. Bubbles had confided in her that Boomer still had nightmares of Brick's powers returning to him. Bubbles had whispered to her the way Boomer had described smoke pouring around him as he tried to escape his brother's grasp. Blossom's stomach twisted. What a wicked man Brick was. Him would have been proud.

"Confident little thing aren't you?" He retorted.

"Knowledgeable," she corrected. "And in need of a job." The scowl shifted into a smirk. She didn't much like this look either. She remembered faintly when his face had softer lines. Blossom pushed away the thought and narrowed her eyes.

"Alright, red, you'll have to prove you got the brains." There were chuckles from the mechanics around them. "I'll give you the red one over there. If you can fix it, you can stay." He jabbed a thumb in the direction of a sad looking bike. Blossom's eyes widened. The motorcycle was dented and missing a wheel. Several of the pipes lay scattered around it. The red fuel tank that had likely been painted by Butch was barely still red. She could faintly see the trace of eyes amongst the red flames. Blossom was sorry she wouldn't get to see the full rendition of her sister. All those years apart and Butch had never wavered in his love for the green-eyed woman. That was another thing Blossom loved about her best friend. He was a fall hard and fall once kind of guy. She blinked, looking away from the bike.

"That's a piece of junk," Blossom told Brick. He chuckled low. She hated that laugh. She'd heard that laugh thousands of times as a kid. It happened every time he thought he'd gotten the better of her.

"I thought you knew how to fix bikes?" He asked. That voice irritated her every nerve. She narrowed her eyes. She could just beam him in the face and be done with this, but Butch and his daughter came into mind. Boomer crying when Bubbles walked down the aisle flashed in her memory. She owed it to those boys to find out if there was any redemption in the man before her.

"I fix motorcycles, not lost causes given to me by sexist shop owners."

The mechanics in the shop went silent. Except for one man that laughed and broke the silence, "Damn, she's got you boss." Brick snorted in anger. A habit remaining from his fire breath, Blossom imagined.

"It's that lost cause or you're out of luck," he said. She let a smile spread on her lips.

"Well then, lucky for you, I need the money." Blossom flipped her hair in his face and sauntered over to the bike she was now stuck with. She really did need the money. Blossom hadn't been able to bring much money with her and she knew she couldn't use her credit card. The resulting bill would alert her family that Blossom had lied about Paris. As much as she hated him, Brick Jojo would be paying for her hotel room for the next few months.

Blossom watched as Brick huffed and stormed back into what looked like an office. She sat down next to the motorcycle she'd been assigned. How on earth was she going to fix this? It was a disaster. She really wasn't sure if there even was fixing this machine. There was a very long list of things that were clearly wrong with watched as Brick huffed and stormed back into what looked like an office. She sat down next to the motorcycle she'd been assigned. How on Earth was she going to fix this? It was a disaster. She really wasn't sure if there even was a way to fix this machine. There was a very long list of things that were clearly wrong with it.

The mechanics around her tried to whisper and talk quietly. Blossom was glad for the super hearing on her side that let her listen in.

"I can't believe the boss gave her that piece of junk. Hasn't it been broken for like three years?" She picked up a discarded piece. Where to start?

"It has. He busted it when his brothers bailed."

"Brothers? I didn't know Brick had family?" Blossom returned the scrap metal to the table near the bike. The mechanics seemed to be gossips. Good, it was all the better for her.

"Yeah, they skipped town a few years back around the same time he crashed his bike. Boss was pissed. He took a few good swings at it with a crowbar. A shame too; the thing used to have a killer paint job." Her fingers paused on where she was examining the back tire's shock.

"Fuck man." Blossom resisted the urge to reprimand the swearing. She reminded herself that she wasn't supposed to be able to hear them. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, happened about a month or two before you started dude."

"Shit. So, you think she can fix the bike?" There was a laugh from a mechanic.

"If she's lucky she'll get the headlight to turn on before Brick kicks her out. Practically everyone in this shop has tried. That bike is a piece of scrap metal." Blossom smirked to herself. It was a good thing she didn't need luck. She could fix anything. She got to work on the sad, red motorcycle. The shop was shockingly organized and she found her tools with little difficulties. Her headphones blasted in her ears, drowning out the usual noise of a shop. The mechanics around her would occasionally pause what they were doing to stare at her, but she paid them no mind. She had to fix this bike. This was no longer just about getting a job, Blossom Utonium was proud to a fault, and there was no way she'd be ridiculed by Brick Jojo. Her clothes and skin were soon covered in the grime and grease of working on machinery. She kept her bangs out of her face with a bandana. Blossom hardly noticed the time passing. The world had faded away to the coolness of the metal under her fingers and the belonging of pieces to their places. That was what she loved about working on motorcycles aside from it being what she did with the boys; everything had a place. Everything in this world had a place and purpose. She liked the excitement of puzzles and the high of solving them.

Brick watched the redhead go to work. She seemed to know what she was doing. Her eyes knew what to look for as she adjusted the bike for a new air filter. Her eyes were what drew him in. For the briefest of moments he'd thought she was here. For a moment he had thought that Blossom Utonium had waltzed into his shop and back into his life. Then the woman had turned and he'd been greeted with those soothingly human brown eyes. He had snapped, angry that he'd let himself have that foolish thought. Besides, this woman's hair was hardly to her shoulders. Blossom would never cut off her long locks. They were the pride of Townsville. She was the pride of Townsville. She'd never leave. He'd asked her to do just that, a million years ago.

_"Blossom, they hate us. Don't fool yourself with thinking it's just my brothers and I. They hate anyone with Chemical-X," a distant memory screamed._

_"Brick Jojo," she'd never used just his first name. No, he was always Brick Jojo to her. "This is my home. This is my city. I am responsible for it. And I am not hated, it's only you this city hates. Your brothers were dragged into this punishment because of your temper." The light had caught the gruesome bandage covering her lightning burn. His fault? He wasn't the brother with lightning powers._

_"I don't control their actions. Boomer made the choice to shoot lightning at you."_

_"And you started the fight! He only did what he did because if he didn't step in, you would have killed me!" You would have killed me. You would have killed me._

Brick tugged at the ribbon tied around his wrist. Blossom had worn it in her hair for years. The soft red fabric was all he had left of that girl. He glanced back up at the woman in his shop. He hadn't caught her name. He sighed as he pulled his sleeve down to cover the ribbon and walked out of his office. If he wasn't going to hire her at least he could know her name when he broke the news. He was nearly to her when he paused. The mechanics were all staring at her. Brick folded his arms. The woman had already fixed the headlight. She blinked it a few times before catching sight of him. The little smile that had been on her face vanished. Brick returned the expression with a scowl.

"I'll have this thing running in no time. There's no need to be staring," she said. He stepped over to her side.

"A headlight is pretty far from running," Brick told her. She gave him a little 'hmph' as she picked up a wrench.

"Just you watch." Her voice was full of resentment. Brick wondered why she'd bother trying to work here when she so clearly hated him.

"I certainly will be watching, Miss...?" He hated how polite the question sounded. In the back of his mind, he could imagine that Blossom would laugh and tease him for it. The woman before him simply paused for the smallest of moments before answering.

"Williams. Brianna Williams." That voice was sending him back to Townsville. Brick studied her for a moment longer. How was Brianna so similar to Blossom? A part of him whispered that it was Blossom. She was here for her revenge. She was here to bring down judgement upon him for his brothers. Brianna only turned her attention back to the bike. She didn't look at him again. "What do I call you? Boss? Like everybody else in this shop?"

Brick cleared his throat, trying to fight the ludacris notion that Blossom was here. "Brick Jojo. Just call me Brick." Brianna had moved on to the shocks.

"Well Brick, if you wouldn't mind. I have a lot of work to do." With the use of just his first name Brick was able to toss away the hope that Blossom was here. He watched Brianna work for a moment more. She was wiping sweat from her forehead. Brick looked at her. Brianna Williams, the completely human version of Blossom Utonium. Maybe this one wouldn't haunt him in the night. Just maybe Brianna's voice, so close to Blossom's, wouldn't echo in his brain under the lonely moonlight. He turned away, determined to think about anything else. _You would have killed me._

_***_

"Williams." Blossom almost jumped. She turned to see Brick standing just over her shoulder. No one else was in the shop now. They were completely alone. When had everyone left? "What are you still doing here? It's nearly one in the morning." There was something she couldn't read in his eyes. Blossom remembered those eyes so well. So much anger had filled them all those years ago. Now, they just looked tired. She took out her headphones.

"I was almost done with the bike," she said. "Just an hour or two more. I couldn't find any spare mudguards, so you'll need a new one of those." His eyebrows furrowed then he leaned forward to inspect her work. He was a little closer than she would have liked. The faint smell of a campfire and motor oil filled her nose. He reached forward to touch the fuel tank. She could see a red ribbon peek out from his sleeve. Her eyes narrowed. He wasn't exactly dressed for a bike shop. He was wearing a white long sleeve and joggers. "Are you in pajamas?" She asked. He turned his head to her slowly.

"I live above the shop and your incessant clanking won't let me sleep. I thought everyone had gone home," He snarled. Blossom scowled.

"No one told me what time it was! I would have left sooner."

"You're a grown woman, I'm sure whatever backwater town you're likely from taught you how to read a clock. You should have known to go home before now."

"I was focused on fixing this piece of junk. And I am most certainly NOT from a backwater town."

"I seem to remember you calling this bike a lost cause," he corrected. "A piece of junk implies that it can be fixed."

"And I seem to remember you promising me a job if I fixed it," She snapped. He snorted. She really hated him. "Pay up, buddy."

"I'll see you at ten o'clock tomorrow. Make sure to wear a watch so you know when to leave." Brick moved away. For some reason, Blossom suddenly felt very cold. She shivered slightly as she collected her things. "Hey, Williams." She turned her head to him ready to direct a curt response. Any retort died in her throat as she found a sweatshirt thrown at her. She blinked. "Bring a jacket too, it gets pretty cold at night and I can't have my best mechanic freezing to death on her way home." Before she could respond he'd vanished from the shop. She frowned. Blossom wasn't sure what to make of him. She knew she hated him, but it almost appeared as if he didn't hate everyone in the universe. Then again, she thought, he's been mostly rude and he isn't even concerned with how I'm going to get home safely. Still a total jerk. Blossom slung her purse over her shoulder and left the shop.

***

A yawn escaped Blossom's lips as she walked into a coffee shop the next morning. The day was already hot and it was only half past nine in the morning. She was glad she'd stolen a few shirts from Buttercup before she'd left Townsville. Today, she was sporting one of her sister's workout shirts. The shirt reached the middle of her neck and the sleeves had little holes for her thumbs. Blossom couldn't deny that it had felt strange to wear something that bore her sister's signature color. The seams of the shirt were stitched together with lime green thread. It went well with her high waisted jeans, but still, she missed her own pink shirts. She'd left nearly every pink clothing item in Townsville. The more she could avoid something that could blow her cover, the better. Wordlessly, the young woman got in line to order her coffee.

Brick watched Brianna wait in line to order. He'd been enjoying his morning coffee when she'd waltzed into the coffee shop. Her red hair glowed a golden color in the soft morning light. Brianna reached up a hand and mindlessly played with a strand. Brick felt jolted back to Townsville for a moment. He was in sophomore year biology. The teacher was droning on about chromosomes. Brick was trying to think of what he and his brothers were going to eat for dinner. Did they have enough bread left for peanut butter sandwiches? They'd been out of peanut butter for a month so that plan was worthless. He was plotting other plans for dinner when he heard a soft sigh. Blossom was sitting next to him at her desk. That unreasonably long hair of hers was tied back with a red ribbon. She was clearly bored with the lesson. Brick wondered why she wasn't in one of the higher achieving classes. The small bit of monster gunk on her shoe was his answer. She didn't have the time for the extra studying. Most of her time was spent battling monsters and trying to keep Buttercup and Butch out of trouble. Their siblings had stopped their childish fighting and had now elected for childish shenanigans together. Brick was going to have to talk to Butch before either Him or Mojo found out. The Powerpuffs were not friends. They were enemies. Brick's stomach had felt funny as Blossom absentmindedly played with some of her hair as the soft morning light turned it a warm golden color.

The peaceful memory of Blossom's hair was soon replaced with flashes of her snarling at him. Their siblings yelling at them. Her hair clashing against the grey wall as he slammed her against it. Anger swelled up in him as she clawed at his arms. Knuckles were bone white from such a tight grip. Then there was the flash of lightning and searing pain. Blossom and Brick screamed together as their skin burned. Arms grasping. Ambulance lights. The slam of a gavel. Her broken face as he begged her to just leave Townsville behind. _You would have killed me._

Brick tugged the ribbon around his wrist. He grabbed his cup of coffee as he stood. Brick left the coffee shop before Brianna had a chance to see him. How could she look so much like Blossom? _You would have killed me._

When Blossom got to the shop with her coffee already downed, she found Brick leaning against the doorway of his office.

"What do I have after I finish that bike?" She asked him. His face was neutral as he jabbed a thumb in the direction of another motorcycle. This bike was better than yesterday's but was still in a very sorry state.

"Came in just a couple hours ago," Brick said. His voice was stiff. What was up with him? He'd been nice last night. "Have fun with it." He retreated to his office. She adjusted her purse on her shoulder and headed to the red motorcycle. Blossom set down her things and rummaged through her purse. She let out a heavy sigh. She'd forgotten her bandana. With a huff Blossom looked around the shop. None of the mechanics had hair long enough to pull back. The only other person with long hair was Brick. A small part of her competitive side hated knowing his hair was longer than hers. Blossom had always had the longest hair in every room she entered. She glanced through the window of his office. Brick was at his desk. His hair hit him about mid chest.

"I should have just punched the guy. Now, I've got to go beg for a hair band," Blossom muttered to herself. She picked up the sweatshirt she still had to return to him and made her way to the office.

Brick didn't look up when she stepped in his office. A phone was pressed to his ear.

"I swear to the devil, Chris. Your wife had a baby a week ago, do not come into the shop." Brick listened to a response. "You're suspended with pay. How's that? I will not allow you into this shop for two more weeks." He paused again. "Because I don't want to deal with all the baby photos you have on your phone. I don't like babies, so just be a good dad and don't come into work." Brick's face twisted in annoyance. "For the love of god, do not bring your baby here. A bike shop is no place for a baby. AND may I restate that I do not like babies. I don't care if she's the cutest thing in the world. I. DON'T. LIKE. BABIES." Brick sighed. "I will see you in two weeks. Go hug your spawn." Brick hung up the phone.

"You know, Williams, it's awfully rude to stare." Brick scowled but the annoyance didn't seem meant for her. His tone changed when he spoke next and Blossom straightened as she pushed hair behind her ear. "What do you want?"

"I came to give back your sweatshirt." She stepped closer to set the fabric on the desk. Brick looked up at her finally. "And to ask if, by chance, you had a hair band I could borrow." He stared at her. He leaned back in his chair as an amused smile slipped onto his face. Blossom had two thoughts on that smile. The first: she absolutely hated when he got that look on his face. When they were teens, Brick had used that smile whenever he was looking at anyone but her. The second thought would not be voiced. She had to focus on why she was here. Butch and Boomer.

"Your first official day and you've already forgotten something you need to get through a shift, Williams. This doesn't bode well for you," he teased. She scowled at him.

"If you don't have one, I'll just work the day with my hair down." Blossom put a hand on her hip.

Brick put his hands up. "Calm down, red. I live above the shop, remember? I'll go grab a hair band for you." He stood up. "I'll be back in a moment."

After he'd left, Blossom glanced around the office. It was rather bland looking. The walls were bare save for a single photo. She moved to get a better look and saw Butch and Boomer were in it. The photo looked like it had been taken just after they'd left Townsville. They all still had the boyish features of their teens. Butch and Boomer were grinning ear-to-ear as Boomer pointed at the sign in the front of the shop. All three brothers were with their motorcycles. Boomer was standing next to his bike with a blue fuel tank which sported lightning that had clearly been painted by his brother. Butch was leaning cooly against his with the black fuel tank. With her supersight, Blossom could make out intricate details on the fuel tanks. The paint job on Butch's bike looked like small yellow flowers (buttercups, Blossom noted) were tangled into dark hair. She smiled. Butch really had been smitten with Buttercup for so long. Brick sat in the middle on his bike. Blossom looked curiously. Butch had never mentioned painting Brick's bike, but the paint job was very clearly Butch's work. On the fuel tank of the motorcycle were bright red flames. Amongst the red flames was a pair of eyes. The world froze. The eyes in those burning flames weren't Buttercup's like Butch was so fond of hiding in everything, but eyes the same color as hers. No, they were Blossom's eyes. The pink both blended in and stood out against the red. In the photo, Brick was half smiling. His arms rested on the handlebars and Blossom could make out something bright red around one of his wrists. She squinted.

"That was when we opened the shop," Brick said from right next to her. Blossom jumped back. She hadn't heard him re-enter the room. He raised his eyebrows at her. Her cheeks went warm in embarrassment. They stared at each for a second before Blossom straightened and cleared her throat.

"Sorry, I didn't notice you come back." She pointed at the picture. "Who's that?" Brick held a hair band out for her. She'd never noticed how nice his hair was.

"Go fix that bike and then you can ask questions about that picture." She took the hair band from him. Their fingers brushed for a brief moment. A thousand years ago, she'd wanted nothing more than to take his hand in hers. Now, she just wanted to smack him. She really wanted to smack him. Blossom left the office without another word. He returned to his desk.

Blossom glanced back at Brick as she pulled her hair back. He was sorting through papers on his desk. As he set down a stack his hand went to his left shoulder. Blossom knew that under the fabric of his shirt was a rather nasty scar. Her own hand reached up to her right shoulder where an ever nastier scar resided. She took her hand away, because she knew that if he saw, he'd begin to put the pieces together. This couldn't work if he found out who she was. Blossom needed to know if there was good inside that man, and he had to be willing to give it to someone he didn't really know. He knew Blossom Utonium too well. They were a complicated story and she didn't have time for that. If he knew who she was the idea of him being good would be destroyed. She was his great temptation, she knew. All their lives there had been moments where she knew he'd wanted her.

_"Blossom, I'm leaving, come with me? We don't have to be on opposite sides anymore." Her heart had ached at his words. Oh, how she wanted to go with him. How she wanted to find a way to save him, but she was responsible for saving more than just him._

_"Brick Jojo, we were never on opposite sides. Please stay."_

He'd left that night and broken her heart. He had been her great destruction. In the back of her mind she could feel the sensation of being slammed into a concrete wall as debris flew up dust around them. Hair fell freely as her ribbon was lost to the motion. Her bones threatened to crack from the impact. Yes, her great destruction. She just hoped, for Butch and Boomer's sake, that she was better at temptation than Brick was at destruction. Blossom returned to fixing the motorcycle, her hands still and unshaking.

***

At the end of the first month, Blossom entered the shop to find Brick leaning in the doorframe of his office like always. He brushed his hair from his eyes as they landed on her.

"Just got a new totalled one, Williams," He told her when she walked toward him. Blossom scowled and plopped her purse down.

"That is it!" She snapped. Brick stiffened. "You do not get to throw the worst bikes my way just because you don't like me. I've fixed twenty-five supposedly totalled bikes already, give me something that isn't a piece of junk, huh? I think I've earned it by now." She folded her arms over her chest. Brick glared at her.

"Last time I checked, I was the boss and I assign the work as I deem fit," He growled.

"Bull! You're just looking for the hardest jobs to give me so I'll quit." She huffed and turned for the door.

"Where are you going?" He asked.

"I'm taking my break now! I'll be back in twenty." Blossom knew she was being rash and that she was definitely going to get fired, but she was tired. She missed her family, she'd been treated terribly for four weeks, and she was ready to conclude that there was no good in Brick. She could come back after a moment to clear her head and clock him one for her boys.

Blossom found herself at the coffee shop without ordering. In the loss of her temper, Blossom had forgotten her purse. She couldn't even order one of those gooey looking cinnamon rolls from the counter. She felt stupid and childish. Blossom let her head fall onto the table. Maybe she could just stay here for the rest of her life. She'd just sit in a coffee shop where there was no family to call and explain her foolish plans to and no frustrating childhood enemies to try and find redemption for. There could be no embarrassment in this coffee shop. She liked this plan.

Perhaps she'd start working here to pay the rent for her table to mope at. Blossom Utonium, no longer Commander and Leader of the Powerpuff Girls, but rather, barista of the coffee shop. If she'd remembered her purse she could have even taken some of the Antidote-X she'd brought with her. There was emergency Chemical-X in there as well, but just in case it fell into the wrong hands she'd brought Antidote-X. She let herself daydream a different life for herself. She could see herself with her hair grown back out working at the cash register. She'd be laughing at something one of her co-workers had said. The bell at the door would ring, just as it was now, and she'd turn with a smile. Two kids would run up to her. Blossom would lift the younger one up on her hip as the elder told her excitedly about their day out with their father. They'd gone to the zoo and seen the lions. The eldest would be telling her a million facts about lions that they'd learned at the zoo. Blossom would ruffle the hair that matched her own. Both children would look just like her, except for those eyes. Red was often the hue of a villain's eyes, but her kids would be heroes through and through, just like her. Just like she wished their father could be, but then he'd walk through the door laughing and apologizing. The kids had run ahead to tell her all about their day and he didn't want to run with the baby. She'd smile and accept his apology with a kiss. The baby would babble nonsense as the sun poured in the windows. Blossom huffed into her arms. The daydream faded away. She was silly to imagine those things. There was nothing good about him; how could she fantasize about a life with him? He was a monster who'd done horrible things. He'd been nothing but rude the entire time she'd been here in New York. She really had messed up in coming here. There was no good to be found in Brick Jojo.

_Blossom, I'm leaving, come with me? We don't have to be on opposite sides anymore._

Blossom's pity party was interrupted by the sound of a chair being pulled out and a cup being set down by her head. She looked up. Brick sat down quietly.

"You're right, I was purposefully giving you the hard jobs," he said as he nudged the coffee cup closer to her. "A peace offering." Blossom watched him in silence. They stared at each other for a long moment as she gently wrapped her fingers around the coffee cup. Brick looked away finally with a heavy sigh. "For fuck's sake, Williams, I'm trying to apologize. You're by far the best mechanic in the shop and I don't want you to quit." Blossom kept staring. Never in her life had she heard Brick Jojo apologize, or even attempt to. "I'm sorry, will you please come back to the shop."

"I want two easy bikes a week," She bargained. There was the smallest bit of a smile on his face.

"One," he said.

"Wow, I guess I'm in the market for a new job," Blossom said flatly. Brick ran a hand through his hair. As kids he'd always worn a red baseball cap, but it had burned up with that flash of lightning. He looked strange without it, like he wasn't truly himself.

"Fine, two easy jobs a week." His red eyes studied her fake brown ones. He held his face in his hands. That red ribbon around his wrist poked out again. Blossom blinked. There was the smallest of blue paint splatters on it. Suddenly, in her mind she was laughing at something Buttercup had said. They were in Bubbles' room as the blonde was busy painting. Blossom ran a hand through her ponytail and felt a snag. She asked Buttercup to hand her the hairbrush on the dresser. Her green-eyed sister had thrown it to her instead. Blossom had failed to catch it. The hairbrush had landed in Bubbles' paint, sending every color splattering onto the redhead. Bubbles had gasped and Buttercup had laughed. It had taken two hours to get all the paint out of her hair and a small blue splatter had refused to wash off of the ribbon. How did Brick have the ribbon now after all these years?

"Will you come back to the shop now?" Brick asked, turning those eyes back to her. She was grateful Brick didn't have his powers. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Her ribbon. Had he worn it all this time? How had he gotten it? The fabric had fallen from her hair that day. She'd thought it was lost forever. How did he have it? And why was he wearing it tied around his wrist?

"Yeah, I'll come back to the shop now." Her voice didn't give anything away.

"Thank you," he sighed. Blossom was glad he stood up first, because he couldn't see the expression that crossed her face. He had apologized and said thank you, but, more importantly, he had her ribbon. There was a chance. There was a chance he was good.

The weeks ticked by with few eventful moments. Brick gave her the most difficult bikes to work on and the mechanics made idle chat with her. Blossom tried to avoid giving the impression that they were friends. She'd didn't need another person to lie to. She was tired of having to fact check everything going on in Paris before she talked to anyone in her family on the phone. She was thinking about what she was going to talk about with Bubbles when she got home when a box of pizza was suddenly plopped down next to her. Blossom looked up to see Brick.

"If you're going to make a point to stay this late, you should make a point to eat something, Williams," Brick sat down by where she was seated replacing an oil tank.

"Why, when I have you to feed me?" She replied. They'd made a habit of this the last couple of weeks or so. She'd stay late working on a project and he'd order food. Sometimes he'd even get his hands dirty and assist with whatever she was fixing.

"Funny," he said as he took a slice of the pizza, ham and pineapple, her favorite toppings.

"If you don't want me staying this late, just say so," Blossom told him. She wiped the grease off her hands with a rag.

"Nah, you're the most socializing I do."

"That's sad," She snorted. "Don't you have a family or something?" She pretended not to care as she picked up her own slice of pizza. Brick looked at her. His eyes didn't give away a thing. He'd always been like that. You could never tell what he was thinking by looking at him. Only once had she known what was going on in his brain. Just for a moment, and she'd thought it would be her last. She fought the urge to touch the fabric over her scar.

"Brothers," he said finally. "Two of them."

"Older or younger?" She untied the bandana from her hair.

"We were triplets, but we don't talk anymore. Some bad shit happened."

"Sorry to hear that." She wasn't. She knew what he'd done.

"Don't be; it was my fault. I did all the wrong things." They ate in silence. Blossom wanted to know what was going on in that head of his. Did he feel guilty? Did he regret hurting his brothers? Did he regret attacking her all those years ago?

"What happened?" She asked. Maybe if he talked about it she'd be able to tell. They could clear this all up here and now and she could go home. Brick leaned forward and rubbed a smudge from the fuel tank of the bike she was working on.

"Does it matter?" His voice had a tone she couldn't decipher. "I did things I shouldn't have and my brothers left because of it. Some would say I'm getting what I deserve. I'm living my life all alone." Why did Brick have to be so hard to read? No one else in this world could lie to her. Only Brick Jojo had ever been able to hide things from her. He'd hidden everything going on inside him when they were young. Boomer and Butch had both only recently opened up about the way Mojo and Him had treated them. When they were kids, she'd always had an inkling about their abuse, but Brick had never given anything away. He was a mystery.

"Believe it or not, Brick, but our actions matter," she said wiping some pizza grease from the corner of her mouth. "Everything matters."

Brick shrugged. "Sometimes, it's like fixing a motorcycle, Williams. It doesn't matter what broke, just that it's broken." He leaned forward. His eyes looked right into hers. "It doesn't matter what I did. I broke something, and there's no fixing it."

"Have you even tried fixing it?" She asked. Her voice wasn't nearly as nonchalant as it should have been. There was no way he wasn't going to pick up on it. A pair of red eyes narrowed as the head they were set in tilted.

"Why do you care so much?" He snapped. "You got a rough relationship with siblings or something?" Well, she had been lying to them for close to three months now.

"I know a thing or two about broken relationships is all." She turned her attention back to the bike. In the back of her mind, there was a strike of lightning and arms to tumble into.

"Oh no, Williams, I shared about my siblings. Now you have to spill about your family from your backwater town."

"Not a backwater town, and I hardly see why you need to know." Blossom ran a hand through her hair. She missed it being long. Combing her hair and feeling it brush the small of her back had always calmed her. Brick stared at her. He studied her face for an agonizing moment. He reached up and pointed at his chin. Blossom brushed the grease from her own.

"I deserve to know who sent you here not knowing how to feed yourself or wipe your mouth."

"I know how to wipe my mouth and feed myself! And who taught you to be so rude!" She scowled. He glared at her. Blossom crossed her arms. "And let's not even start with how short your temper is."

"My temper is short? Speak for yourself, Red." Brick returned her scowl, but there was the slightest bit of amusement on his face. She had to admit, they were pretty evenly matched when it came to temper. Always had been. Blossom sighed.

"Not much to talk about," She lied. There was so much to talk about. Bubbles and Boomer had gotten married last year and a few months later Buttercup and Butch had had a daughter. The Professor had retired in order to spend more time with his granddaughter. Bubbles and Butch had both been shown in art galleries. Boomer and Butch had opened their own bike shop in Townsville. Everyone was counting the days until Bubbles announced she was pregnant. A small pang hit Blossom's heart at the thought that she might be hearing the news over a phone call. She knew she'd already missed the excitement of her niece using her laser eyes for the first time. For a moment, all she wanted was to go home, but the images of Boomer and Butch's scars rattled in her brain. There was another memory there, it echoed, trying to get to the surface, but Blossom had long mastered ignoring it. The memory stayed buried.

"Really? You haven't been to school or an apprenticeship, so how do you know how to fix bikes like this?" Brick asked, leaning back.

Blossom shrugged. She thought about the countless hours spent with Butch and Boomer working on their bikes. The late night talks with Butch over delivery as they worked tirelessly on broken bikes. Laughing when Boomer got grease on his face. She gave Brick a small smile as she turned back to the bike she was currently working on.

"My brothers taught me." Blossom wasn't lying then.

Brick had to blink. Her smile was so soft. It looked so easy, but her eyes gave way to something more. There were good memories behind that smile. He wondered what it was like to think of your brothers and smile. There were happy days and laughter in her eyes. Brick couldn't remember there being a time when he and his brothers had laughed together after a certain age. A certain memory tugged at his mind. Pink eyes blinked up at him as they got closer, then there was the voice of the devil. Lobster claws to clutch his arms. A child fighting against someone he had no chance of defeating. Sometimes, Brick woke up at night with the sensation of those claws still on him. There were reasons Brick hardly ever slept. Nights were usually spent trying to drive out the memories of anything from Townsville. His brain liked to drift back to that place in his sleep. Brick had learned to survive off only a few hours of sleep.

Brianna's tongue stuck out as she concentrated on her work. It was cute, he thought, how the more absorbed she got in a project the more she lost her usual cool composure. He had to admit that the nights had gotten better since she'd arrived at the shop. She was a distraction. The bad stuff from Townsville would fade away and he'd be left with the few good memories. Every now and then he imagined that she was Blossom and that she had left Townsville with him all those years ago. He'd opened this shop with his brothers, but he and her had spent hours working on bikes together. Blossom would go over the paperwork and tell Brick that he was an idiot with a small smile on her face. She'd turn to him when he'd lean against the office door frame. Brick Jojo, she'd call him, what are you doing staring? Get over here. And he'd smile as she pressed her lips to his. He'd felt that sensation before. He could hardly lie to himself and say he didn't want that feeling again. Her hands touching the small of his neck how he'd always wished they would. Then they'd hear laughter. They'd part and two little kids would run into the office. Both with red hair and pink eyes like their mother. They'd look nothing like him. They'd be all her. She'd sweep one up in her arms and Brick, for once in his life, would be happy. They would have been happy, had she come to New York with him. But she hadn't. She'd looked at him with hurt and anger when he'd begged her to come. And alas, Brianna would turn those brown eyes to him and his dreams would end. Blossom was the past. She was the voice echoing in the dark of night that he tried not to hear. Even if she did walk into his shop, Blossom would never be here to stay. She wouldn't be here for him. She'd be here for his brothers. She'd be here for revenge, because she was the closest thing this world had to an angel of justice. She would be here to bring down his final judgement. It would be a battle to the death, just as it was meant to be, after all, he'd been created to destroy her. _You would have killed me._

"I think I've got everything I'm going to get done for the night," Brianna said, setting down her tools. Brick nodded. He pulled himself out of his dark thoughts.

"Yeah, get some rest, Williams." They both stood as Brick picked up her purse for her. She was so similar to Blossom, but she was different. Brianna's smile wasn't as soft and her edges were sharper. Her hair didn't frame her figure the way Blossom's did. Brianna kept her hair hardly to her shoulders. When she looked at you, Brianna felt like a warm July night. Her brown eyes could pull anyone in. Brianna was a chance, Brick thought, a chance to be more than the man who'd almost killed Blossom. He could be someone who had no sins staining his hands. Brianna was a chance to make this masquerade mask his true face. Brianna was a chance at happiness.

"You should get some sleep yourself, Brick," Brianna said. She stepped closer to him. He could smell her perfume. She gently touched under her own eye. "Don't think I don't see those bags under your eyes. Get some sleep."

Blossom pulled her hand away from her face. He looked unbelievably tired. She wondered what kept him up at night. Why didn't he sleep? Did the guilt keep him awake? She hoped it was the guilt. She might be able to unlock that good after all. Blossom Utonium wanted to bring out the good in him desperately. The part of her that had dominated before the incident, wanted to reach out and touch his face. That part wanted to hold him until he slipped into a peaceful slumber. It wanted to drift off with the sound of his breathing as her lullaby. She took a step back from Brick before that part had any hope of being resurrected. She'd buried that girl ten years ago with his hands clutching her throat. She'd cremated her with the burn of lightning.

"Brianna," Brick croaked out. Blossom looked up at him. When had he gotten so tall? As kids, they'd always been the same height. "You like movies, right?" She blinked.

"Yes, I like movies," she provided. He seemed to think something over in his head.

"Do you want to watch one sometime?" He asked. Blossom felt that buried part of her begin to stir in its grave.

"I watch a lot of movies, Brick." She couldn't let that part wake up. It had to stay buried, for Butch and Boomer's sake. She couldn't find if their brother was saveable if she let that childish crush back into her heart.

"No, I mean, watch one with me?" He managed to get out. Blossom pondered if he had his powers back because she suddenly felt very warm. That part she'd buried beat against it's coffin. It was screaming for her to say yes. For her to give into the wishes of a seventeen year-old girl. To give into the girl that just a few hours before the incident had been peeking at a certain boy during class and wondering if he'd ask her to the dance. That had daydreamed about their first slow dance. She'd blushed at the thought of being close enough to smell his cologne, because she'd known without a doubt that Brick wore it. Instead, Blossom only offered him a smile in his bike shop.

"Get some sleep, Brick Jojo, then I'll think about it." She turned around before she could see his reaction as she turned to leave. She didn't see the strange expression that had crossed his face when he realized what she'd said. Brick Jojo. Brick stared after her. Brick Jojo.

"Brianna," Brick called for her. Blossom turned around.

"Yes?"

"Don't forget your purse," He said as he held it out for her. Blossom placed the strap on her shoulder.

"Of course, thanks. I'll see you tomorrow." He didn't respond as she tried not to sprint or fly out of the shop.

Blossom scrambled into her hotel room. Her face was beet red. She leaned against the door and slid to the ground. Her knees drew close to her chest. Her heart was hammering in her ribcage. She was dangerously close to that part of her breaking out of it's coffin. Blossom shook her head.

"Blossom Utonium, you are better than some childhood crush. You are a grown woman." She bustled about her room. "And Brick Jojo is not the person to get squirmy feelings for." She started the shower. "He is a villain, and a very bad villain." She continued to scold herself as she showered and got ready for bed. When she climbed under the covers she felt her cheeks warm again. "Oh for goodness' sake! You are a superhero, not a school girl." She closed her eyes, trying to keep a certain memory from surfacing. She focused on the memory she knew she should be focusing on. The yelling, the anger in his eyes, the fear that consumed her as his hands had tightened around her throat. Boomer shouting. The blinding pain as her and Brick's skin had burned. Boomer had been aiming for Brick, but she'd taken most of the trauma. The lightning had struck Brick's shoulder and rushed to burn her skin. He'd released her neck as he'd stumbled to the ground. Blossom, her feet having been held above the ground couldn't support her and she'd tumbled down. Her mind zeroed in on one detail. One silly detail. Blossom hadn't fallen into the broken concrete that day. In the split second after she'd thought he'd be her murderer, Brick had caught her. His hands that moments before had deprived her lungs of air had cradled her like a child. This one detail let the forbidden memory creep in. They were younger than they'd been then, they were fourteen. Blossom was wearing a pink dress she thought made her look extra pretty and Brick looked just as he always had. Baseball hat turned backwards, the red shirt just a couple sizes too big and that unreadable expression of his. The admittance that she sort of didn't hate him. Brick leaning closer to her and mumbling that he sort of didn't hate her either. The sudden realization of just how close they were. The realization that they were actively getting closer to each other until her watermelon lip gloss had covered not just her lips but his. It had been chaste, as most fourteen-year-old kisses were. As many first kisses were. For a moment, Blossom had thought she'd felt him smile against her lips, but then the door to the closet they were hidden away in flew open. Brick had shoved her to the side, stammering that it wasn't what it looked like. A pang had shot through Blossom until she'd seen who'd opened the door. Him had seethed down at them. Those lobster claws had snatched Brick away as he screamed. She had been so frozen in fear that she'd done nothing to save him then. Blossom tossed and turned in her bed now. If she couldn't save Brick from the devil, maybe she could save him from himself. Blossom stared up at the ceiling. That fourteen-year-old girl that she had once been, begged her to save him. If that girl was still in her, there was hope he was still that boy deep down. There was hope that he was just a frightened child that didn't know how to escape the terrors of his world.

***

Brick tried his best to sleep that night, but every time he'd begin to drift off his dreams would take him back to the one day in his life that he regretted. The one single moment he felt guilt over. It was the darkest day of his life despite the sun light that poured through the high school windows. He'd been counting the days until graduation. There was nothing more that he wanted than out of that school and out of that town. In all honesty, only one thing kept him there. He knew his brothers would come with him. They were family and family stuck together. The reason he hadn't asked them to leave yet was because of a stupid crush. A crush Brick knew he'd never do anything about. He'd tried to do something once, and that had gotten his adoptive father so angry that Brick still shuddered at the sound of Him's voice. His brothers were idiots. They followed and fell for their counterparts and hardly even tried to hide it. They were stupid if they thought their feelings would bring anything but pain and torment. The devil would be furious with them, just as Him had been with Brick. It wasn't something that Brick would ever be able to protect them from.

He could hear giggling from around the corner. He sighed. His locker was down that way and he wasn't in the mood to see high school PDA. Brick steeled himself to try to ignore what he was about to see. Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. If he'd had a chance to prepare, maybe, just maybe, his life would have turned out differently. Boomer was there with his hand holding a certain blue-eyed Powerpuff's hand. She was laughing at something Brick's brother had said. They'd looked so happy, so fucking happy that Brick hadn't been able to take it. This happiness couldn't last. Him would find out sooner or later and if Brick had suffered a beating for a kiss, he could only imagine the punishment Boomer would face for the obvious love in his eyes. Him would kill Boomer. There was no doubt in Brick's mind.

"What the hell is this?" He'd screamed. The two love sick puppies had spun around, hands still entwined. "Boomer, what the fuck are you doing?"

"Brick, it's no big deal," Boomer had said. Brick stormed closer to them, his temper on the brink. Bubbles had let go of Boomer's hand then.

"The hell it is!" Brick had grabbed Boomer's collar in one hand. "Do you have any idea what kind of fucking trouble you could get into?"

"Brick, you need to calm down," Bubbles had tried to defuse the situation, but Brick had never liked to admit his temper. He'd glared down at her. Her blue eyes hadn't backed down. What a silly girl, she had no idea the consequences her touch would bring down on Boomer.

"Stay out of this, Bubbles." Brick really hadn't wanted to get the girl involved. This was between him and Boomer. Then, she'd reached out and gently touched his arm. If only she'd touched his shoulder instead. Her hand settled on the same spot that lobster claws had left their mark under his shirt. Brick had let go of Boomer to shove her away. That was when things had gotten bad, because a quick tempered, green-eyed girl had stumbled upon them.

"Get your hands off my sister!" Buttercup's hair had been disheveled. Her clothes slightly ruffled in a manner that Brick suspected Butch had helped with before he'd gone to practice. His brothers were idiots. All of them were idiots. "What the hell is wrong with you?" Her hands were balled into fists. Brick tried to stop everything. He didn't want to hurt anyone. He just wanted to stop this before Boomer got in real trouble. But his temper was climbing. Smoke was beginning to pour out of his nose.

"Leave it alone," Brick had told Buttercup. "You aren't part of this." She'd scoffed.

"You put your hands on my sister and I am part of this," Buttercup had snapped. Brick had turned to leave, snatching Boomer's collar up to drag him along. Smoke was starting to get in his eyes.

"Let go!" Boomer had yelled. Brick had only tightened his grip.

"Let him go!" Bubbles cried and suddenly everyone in the hall was yelling. Brick backed away. There was so much happening and he couldn't block it out or break it down to specific moments. He could no longer remember just what had been said to push it all over the edge, but Buttercup had given him a shove and he'd given her a black eye in return. The yelling had only intensified from Boomer and Bubbles as Buttercup and Brick had broken into a physical fight. Buttercup caused the initial property damage by laser beaming him through a wall. Later on, Brick assumed that was the sound that had alerted Butch and Blossom from their respective after-school activities. Butch had been the first to arrive. He'd tried to pry the two apart, but Buttercup wasn't the toughest fighter for nothing. His brothers and Bubbles had gotten pulled into the scuffle. Brick wasn't sure who's side Butch and Boomer were on. He knew for sure that at one point Boomer had tripped him. Butch was putting shields up left and right in a strange manner. His brother wasn't being very strategic, and the shields often hindered Brick more than they protected him.

In the briefest of seconds between hits from Buttercup he'd realized just what was happening. They were all fighting, even the blondes were arguing. It was perfect. If the fight got big enough Him would never dig deep enough to see the stupid things Boomer and Butch were doing. Make enough noise, cause enough damage, break enough bones and everyone would stay safe. He'd grabbed Buttercup's foot mid kick and flung her into a building. Brick let out the anger in his chest. Fire raced out of his lungs in a manner of seconds. He advanced on the dark haired girl pulling herself out of a crater. Her eyes were glowing in preparation to hit him with lasers. She looked furious. Good. She was the most reckless sister. She'd destroy plenty of stuff to give him a beating. Brick could take it. He'd taken worse. This would keep everyone alive. A shield had appeared then between the redhead and girl. Brick had scowled over at Butch.

"Don't touch her, please," Butch had said. For as hard of a reputation as Butch had, his eyes were terrified. "Brick, what the fuck are you doing?" Brick had studied his brother. Those green eyes were so dark, one could hardly call them green, and they were desperate. There was a moment that he wondered if he should just stop this now. They could leave town couldn't they? There would be heartbreak, so much of it, but they'd all be alive, and wasn't that enough? He faltered for a second, then he saw that pink streak in the distance. No. This was the only way. Brick let out another stream of fire. Butch had to forget the shield separating Buttercup and Brick in order to avoid the flames. Buttercup had wasted no time in slamming into Brick. They tumbled down. The ground cracked beneath them. She snarled with each punch. He twisted her off of him before throwing her into a building thirty feet away. Make enough noise. Break enough things. Butch was screaming their names. Buttercup coughed as she sat up. She was starting to get really angry. He needed to get angrier. Make enough noise. Break enough things. He shot just above her head with a beam from his hand. His fingers were steaming when she bolted forward. Arms tangled as they grabbed and hit at each other. Brick had just slammed Buttercup's face into a brick wall when a yell cut through the fight.

"Everyone stop!" Blossom had shouted in that voice that demanded to be obeyed. Everyone had frozen, except Buttercup and Brick. They were still engrossed in throwing punches. "I said stop." Blossom grabbed onto Buttercup and tore her from the fight. Blossom placed a hand on Brick's chest before she turned her back to him to inspect her sister for injuries. Buttercup tried to lunge for Brick, but was stopped by her sister. "The fight is over, Buttercup. Brick, go sit down over there." The red-haired girl pointed at the wall.

"Like hell, I'm listening t-"

"I said sit down," Blossom snarled at him. Everyone went quiet as Brick scrambled to sit down, because Blossom Utonium didn't snarl. After she was satisfied that she was being obeyed she turned back to her sister. Blossom tilted the girl's chin, examining the damage that Brick had done. That had been it. That had been the moment Brick thought she'd never forgive him for. Blossom's pink eyes narrowed at him, because no one, absolutely no one, hurt her family. "The fight's over. Someone needs to start talking right now." Blossom had listened quietly as Bubbles and Boomer had tried to explain the situation. Blossom's arms had stayed wrapped around Buttercup the whole time. It was clear the green-eyed girl wanted out, but Blossom held fast. Buttercup wouldn't be able to run if she was about to be scolded. When the explanation had ended, Blossom had sighed.

"Everyone go home. Brick, I'd like to have a word with you," was all she said. She let go of Buttercup.

"Bloss," Buttercup had tried.

"I will deal with you when I get home," Blossom warned. "Now, I expect the streets to be bare of X-enhanced teens in a matter of seconds." Her gaze had been foreboding and she was not disobeyed. When it was only the two of them, Blossom sunk to the ground to sit beside him. "Brick Jojo, what am I going to do with you?" He'd wanted to laugh at that. He had just thrown her sister into multiple buildings and she was still here next to him. Her shoulder was warm against his.

"Blossom," he'd started.

"You're scared for them; I know." She'd pulled her knees to her chest. How could she not hate him? Why wasn't she fighting him with all her powers? He'd gotten into a fight with Buttercup. He'd caused plenty of property damage. Her features remained soft. Sometimes he forgot just how big Blossom's heart was. She could forgive nearly anything. "You can't protect him, Brick." She'd looked at him then. Even with the sting of a fight still on his cheek, all he wanted was to reach out and touch her. He wanted to do just what he'd scolded Boomer for. Brick wanted to hold her hand and just sit here until the sun set. He could never have that though. He had been created twice to tear her down. He had yet to come close.

"Who's going to protect him then?" Brick asked. No one in the world was looking out for his brothers. No one had looked out for him.

"I will. I'm the superhero. It is my job to save people."

You didn't save me, he'd thought.

The echoes of childhood trauma sounded in his head like the ghosts in those abandoned buildings in all of Butch's horror movies. He could hear it all, but he didn't want to see it. He didn't want it to appear on screen, because then he'd have to admit to the world that it was there. If she was a superhero, shouldn't she have saved him? It never should have happened on her watch.

She stood and offered him a hand up. "Just let him make his choices, and leave the saving to me." The wind had caught her hair then. She'd looked heavenly, her hand outstretched for him. If Brick had been the artist in the family, he would have committed the image of her to canvas. He'd have captured all the soft curves of her. He'd have spent his entire life trying to get the angle of her smile just right. He would have painted her as an angel and pretended she'd been sent by the heavens to save him.

He took her hand hesitantly. Blossom pulled him up, but just as she'd done with Buttercup, she didn't let go. "But don't you ever touch my sister again, am I understood?" He'd nodded. He didn't have any plans to touch anybody ever again, not with her hand in his and her lips so close. He could smell that floral perfume she insisted on wearing. There was no one he wanted his skin to touch but hers. Blossom seemed to get closer, as if she was trying to torture him, because he knew he had to let go.

He had to put distance between them and fast. This was dangerous. Why did she have to tempt him at every corner? His brain screamed for him to get lost, but his body didn't retreat. His face got closer to hers. He needed to leave. He couldn't stay. This was bad. This was so fucking bad.

He let go of her hand and cradled her face. Brick didn't want to let her go. He wanted to stay right here. Maybe he could find a way to escape Him. He knew he couldn't really, but he entertained the idea because she was so close. Blossom tugged gently at his sweatshirt to bring him closer. This was unbearable.

She had to know what she was doing and just how bad it was. She had to know that this was a death sentence whether or not she stayed. Him would either kill Brick or having to live after she let go would destroy the young man. It didn't matter if she knew, he was a dead man kept alive by her temptation.

Her lips brushed his. She was wearing lipgloss. Was it watermelon like the last time or something completely different? He wanted to know. He needed to know. Brick tilted her chin up and kissed her. Those hands trailed up his body. A small sigh escaped her as she settled into him.

She was killing him with her touch. A cackle entered Brick's mind. Him slipped in and out the dark corners of his brain. She was killing him. She had to know. No one would listen to him. Brick was trying to keep everyone out of danger. He was trying to keep everyone alive, but she wouldn't listen. She just kept tempting him. She had to know.

Flashes of the consequences for that last, chaste kiss played in his mind as she parted her lips to him. Her lipgloss was cherry flavored this time. She had to know. Lobster claws came down on him. She had to know. The mind games set in. She had to know. People were laughing and kicking him. She had to know. He watched Boomer and Butch bleed. He was on the floor begging for it all to stop.

She didn't know. He was sobbing and crying out to his father as a warped version of her sneered. How didn't she know? Why didn't anyone know? Why wouldn't anyone listen? He was trying to do the right thing. He was trying to keep everyone safe, but here she was, kissing him like that didn't matter. She had to care. She didn't. She didn't care that this could be what brought upon the reckoning. She was killing him and she didn't care.

"Brick," she gasped.

He was no longer holding her face. His hands had drifted down to her throat. He knew he should let go, but he was so angry. Why wouldn't she listen? Why hadn't anyone listened? Blossom struggled against him. She didn't care. Why didn't she care? The girl in his grip hit the button on her bracelet. He knew exactly what that bracelet was for. It allowed the girls to alert each other of trouble without a phone. She was calling for help, but still, he couldn't let go.

Brick slammed her against the wall. If she went away, she'd stop tempting him. He could keep everyone safe then. Her sisters had arrived. He could hear his brothers too. Why didn't anyone listen to him? He was trying to do the right thing. Why didn't she care? There was shouting. The air seemed to go dry. Brick had known it was coming before it hit. The pain of being struck by lightning was blinding. His knees gave out and he couldn't hold on anymore. He couldn't keep them all safe. Brick saw her fall. He scrambled to catch her before she hit the ground. His shoulder was still melting, but hers was far worse. Brick thought that was when he screamed in agony. He couldn't protect them. Why didn't she care? Because he cared so fucking much.

Brick jolted up in bed, trying to shake the events of that day, all those years ago, out of his brain. He flopped onto his back. Brick stared at the empty space on his bed. He'd spent countless nights imagining her lying there next to him. He'd pretended to watch her breathe as it drew her chest up and down. The fantasy way she'd smile when she woke briefly to spot him. Blossom would always reach out and touch his cheek. She'd call him an idiot for not being asleep. Brick let all those imagined nights fade away like the wind had swept them from him. He regretted it. She was the one thing he felt sorry about. The one thing that conjured guilt inside him was that day. He looked at the red ribbon he'd kept tied around his wrist since he'd found it caught under rubble after he'd been released from the hospital that night.

He was sorry for letting go. He should have let the lightning burn at him as he made sure she choked. _You would have killed me._ He should have.

***

Blossom blinked at the mirror. Was the make-up too much? She'd tried to replicate a look Bubbles had given her for last winter's Christmas party, but she wasn't sure she'd pulled it off. She was about to wash it all off when her phone went off. Butch was video calling her. Blossom picked up after checking that her hair was pulled into a bun to hide the lack of length and she'd yet to put in her brown contacts. Butch's face popped onto the screen.

"Bonjour," Butch greeted her. Blossom smiled as little hands grabbed at his face. Her niece poked at Butch's unshaven chin. "Somebody has something they'd like to say."

"Oh my favorite little flower!" Blossom watched as Butch shifted the camera so his daughter could stare at her. "Protea, it's Aunty Blossom." The little girl giggled.

"Bwozzum," Protea said. Blossom's heart melted. She wanted so badly to put a million kisses on her niece's face.

"Did she just say my name?!" Blossom cried. Butch laughed. The camera shifted to Buttercup.

"Yeah, and she's done nothing but say your name since she figured it out last night so come home from Paris! Haven't you had enough of the French by now?" Buttercup scowled at her. Blossom frowned. It was time to lie again.

"I happen to like the French thank you," she said. "And it isn't my fault your daughter loves me so much." Buttercup held a certain finger up to the camera.

"Utonium, not in front of the kid," Butch said as he brought the camera back to him.

"Don't start with me, Jojo, who was it that swore in front of all those kindergarteners yesterday?" Buttercup's voice echoed off camera. There was the sound of a door opening.

"Oh, I know the answer to that one!" Boomer's voice came in. "That would be my brother." There was laughter from Bubbles off screen.

"Maybe I should hang up," Blossom began.

"Is that Blossom?" The camera was suddenly shifted to her sister. "Bonjour, ma belle fleur! Comment est Paris?"

"I don't know what my lovely wife just said, but how is Paris?" Boomer asked just over Bubbles' shoulder.

"C'est joli, Boomer," Blossom responded. Boomer frowned.

"Well, now I don't know what either of you said," Boomer pouted. The phone fumbled again as Butch came back into view.

"Will all of you go away? I was trying to show Blossom how cute my daughter is," Butch grumbled while Protea still played with his stubble. Blossom laughed. Bubbles appeared next to Butch. Their cheeks pressed together as they looked at the camera.

"Why are you wearing your going out make-up?" Bubbles asked. A moment later her face lit up. "Are you going on a date? Oh my god, Blossom, tell us all about him!" Blossom shook her head, though she could feel her cheeks go warm.

"There's no dating going on, Bubbles! I am still very much single, and will be when I come home." Butch was staring intently now.

"You are wearing more make-up than usual." Protea moved on to playing with her father's hair. Butch grinned. "You may not be going on any dates, but it sure looks like you're trying to get one. Tell us all about Jean-Paul."

"Jean-Paul?" Blossom asked with a sigh.

"Yeah, cause you know, Jean-Paul is like John. A million people are named that. Or is it Jean-Pierre? Jean-Jaques? Please, tell me you aren't trying to date a Jean-Jaques, because I will not be able to handle family holidays having to address Jean-Jaques with a serious expression," Butch explained with a smile.

Blossom couldn't help but smile herself. When Butch and Boomer had first returned to Townsville, they'd hardly smiled except when they were with their significant others. Now smiles were easy for them. There wasn't a citizen in Townsville that didn't receive smiles in passing from them. Blossom was so proud of how far her boys had come. They had worked hard to heal from the pain they'd experienced. They deserved to know they were truly safe. They deserved to have their family complete. Blossom laughed as her sisters and her boys all continued to argue playfully. Butch and Boomer deserved for her to try and save Brick. They deserved to know if he could be redeemed. Blossom ignored that fourteen-year-old girl in her. She wasn't here for her; she was here for Butch and Boomer. Boomer appeared on the screen next.

"Hey, Blossom, good luck with Jean-Jaques! I for one wouldn't hate talking to him at family get togethers," Boomer grinned. It was easy to see why Bubbles loved him so much. Boomer was handsome in that biker boy kind of way, but he was so kind and good. He was so good. Blossom wondered how he'd managed to stay so gentle after everything he'd been through. She forced herself not to frown. How did he stay gentle after everything Brick had put him through?

"Once again, there are no dates happening," Blossom said. She glanced at her watch. She'd be late for work if she didn't hang up soon. "I was just about to wash it all off anyways, and go to a bookstore. I'll talk to you all later. Give Protea tons of kisses for me!" She hung up before anyone could argue. She stared at her phone. Protea was her lock screen. The little girl's bright green eyes stared up at Blossom. Her little tufts of black hair stuck out everywhere as Protea smiled. The teddy bear Blossom had given her was held tight against the infant's cheek. The red haired woman sighed. She wanted to go home, but part of her didn't. Part of her wasn't hating New York. Too much of her didn't hate Brick. There was good in him. She knew that much and she was going to fight tooth and nail to save him. She needed to save him. Blossom didn't just owe it to the boys, she owed it to Brick. He deserved to have someone see the good in him. No matter what he had done; everyone deserved to be saved.

Her phone chirped then with a text from Brick. She opened her phone to read his message. **Closing the shop for the day; dinner at a normal time? My place. Say 6ish?** She smiled, biting her lip. She let herself forget about her entire mission just for a little while as the heat returned to her cheeks. She could let herself be a woman with a crush for one night. Her response to Brick was sent quickly. Dinner at his place sounded perfect. Blossom looked out her window at the skyline of New York City. It wasn't home, not really, but for a moment it was close enough.

Blossom was on her way to the shop later that evening. She'd opted to wear a pair of jeans that fit a little tighter than she usually preferred and a light blue long sleeve she'd stolen from Bubbles. The nervousness in her gut refused to go away. It was silly, really, that she was nervous about going to the shop. She'd been there nearly everyday for the last three months. There was absolutely no reason to be nervous around Brick. He'd done nothing to make her think there was anything to be nervous about. She absentmindedly played with a strand of her short hair. What were they even going to do besides eat? Watch a movie? Talk? Blossom refused to let certain other activities take up space in her mind.

The screeching of brakes drew Blossom out of her head. Her eyes darted to the sound in time to see a minivan crash into a truck. Neither driver had time to react before a third car had rammed into them and flipped over. Without thinking Blossom dashed forward. The owner of the truck staggered out of his vehicle. She caught him by his shoulders.

"Are you alright, sir?" She asked. He nodded while coughing. She directed him to sit down on the curb as pedestrians began to gather. Blossom glanced at the shop hardly a block away. She prayed Brick wouldn't take any notice. A fourth car came speeding into the collision sending the minivan onto its side. Her feet pounded against the concrete as she tried to stop a fifth car. Her muscles didn't even strain as she stopped the vehicle with her foot like it was a soccer ball. She climbed onto the hood to propel herself forward. She landed on the upturned belly of the third car. Blossom dropped to the ground to look at the driver.

"Are you alright? Can you move?" The driver looked at her as she spoke calmly. Blossom's eyes were searching for anything that could hurt the driver if she opened the car door. It seemed to be safe.

"I can't get my seatbelt off," They managed. Blossom opened the door.

"Don't worry, I'm going to get you out of here in a moment," Blossom grabbed a small flashlight from her purse. She and her sisters had taken training with the Townsville paramedics. Blossom knew to make sure there weren't any other signs of injuries. She turned on the light and held up a finger. "I need you to follow my finger. Does it hurt anywhere?" The driver shook their head.

"I'm okay," they promised. Blossom blinked off her flashlight. Getting the seatbelt off was simple. The driver thanked her repeatedly as a bystander helped them away. Blossom turned her attention to the minivan that lay on its side. Others were helping the driver from the fourth car. The minivan was her only concern now. She climbed onto the upturned side. Blossom peered through the passenger side window at the driver.

"Are you alright?" She asked them. The woman in the driver seat looked up at her.

"Please, my son is in the backseat," the woman said. Blossom moved to look at the backseat. A little boy was strapped into his booster seat. His eyes were wide and full of terror. The boy looked up at Blossom. She offered a smile. There were no dangers to the boy.

"Hey, buddy, everything's okay. I just need you to stay really still for me, alright?" Blossom looked around. She didn't see Brick anywhere yet. She tore the door off the minivan. Gasps tore through bystanders and within seconds phones were filming her. If social media footage got to Brick, she'd claim it was adrenaline. Blossom climbed into the van. The screech of more brake and thud of multiple other cars sounded from outside. New Yorkers sure can't drive, Blossom thought to herself. Glass crunched under her feet as she jumped down into the van. The boy's big eyes stared at her. "Okay, I'm going to get you out of here. You're being so brave, buddy." She unstrapped the boy from his carseat. His little arms wrapped around her neck. Blossom tried to ignore the terror that filled her at any pressure around her neck. She had more important things to do than dwell on bad memories. The smell of smoke reached her nose as she was emerging from the minivan. Blossom's body froze. After all these years and smoke still made her think of one thing, one person. She looked around quickly. He wasn't here, even with her supersight he was nowhere to be seen. The smoke was coming from one of the cars. When had it caught fire? She spotted a turned over vehicle with several teens trapped inside. The flames were getting bigger.

"Miss," Blossom turned to see an older man, "we can take the boy until an ambulance gets here." She handed him over before helping his mother free. The teens in the unturned car were screaming louder. The fire had gotten closer. It was too close. Blossom didn't have time to pretend to be a normal human. She zipped over knowing her pink streak was in plain sight of New York. The teens were out of the car just before the flames reached a gas tank. Blossom shielded a young girl from the shrapnel. The deadly metal hardly even stung as it bounced off her skin. Her purse wasn't so lucky. The sound of breaking glass echoed in her ears. A glance in the purse and she found the bottle of Chemical-X shattered. The Antidote-X was nowhere to be seen. It must have fallen out, she thought. Blossom stood as the smoke cleared. Her shirt was burnt. Her right shoulder was exposed, leaving her scar in plain view. Someone offered her a jacket to cover up. Blossom accepted as she noted that first responders were finally on the scene. She snuck away before anyone could ask her questions.

***

Buttercup closed the door to her daughter's nursery behind her. Protea had just gotten to sleep. The young mother was ready for a glass of wine and a nap of her own while Butch was meeting with a client at the tattoo shop. Her phone chirped letting her know she would not be getting either. It was an alert from the Mayor's office. Buttercup intended to ignore the alert and let Bubbles handle it when a text from her sister appeared. Bubbles informed her that Boomer would be coming to watch the baby. Buttercup herself needed to get to the Mayor's office immediately. Buttercup huffed. She never could have any peace these days.

Bubbles was chewing her thumbnail when Buttercup arrived. The dark haired woman raised an eyebrow.

"Ms. Bellum, what's wrong? Mojo illegally park his midlife-crisis robot again?" Buttercup asked. Ms. Bellum shook her head.

"No, Buttercup, all of Townsville's villains are behaving today. I called you here to ask if you know where Blossom is," Ms. Bellum's voice was stiffer than usual. Buttercup looked at Bubbles.

"I'd say Paris, but judging by Bubs expression that isn't where Pinky is," she said. Bubbles grabbed her arm. Buttercup could feel the pressure in her grip. "Ms. Bellum, where is my sister?" The Mayor's secretary turned the computer screen on her desk to face the two sisters.

"We believe New York City. This video appeared online a few hours ago. There was a nine car pile up today, but it looks like your sister saved the day." Ms. Bellum pressed play on shaky camera footage. A young woman with short red hair and brown eyes tore the door from a minivan on its side.

"That can't be Blossom, her hair is too short, and her eyes are the wrong color."

"Buttercup," Bubbles said. Green eyes turned to worried blue. "That's one of the shirts Blossom borrowed before she went on her trip."

"That doesn't mean anything; you bought that shirt at Balmart. It's mass produced." Bubbles pointed at the screen. The young woman on screen was handing a little boy to an elderly man. Buttercup watched as she pulled a woman from the minivan. The camera shook as it zoomed in on fire behind the young woman. She'd turned to the fire herself. A pink streak lit up the screen a moment later. There was screaming and the camera shook more before going black.

"I know that street, Buttercup," Bubbles said. "Brick's shop is on it." Buttercup's blood ran cold. Her heart stopped beating when Ms. Bellum clicked on a photo from the car crash. The young woman stood there. Her eyes and hair were the same wrong length and wrong color, but everything else was her sister. Blossom's post-saving scowl and her fists clenched at her sides lit the screen. The blue shirt Bubbles claimed was hers was burnt and torn leaving the woman's shoulder bare. The scar was unmistakable. It was a permanent reminder of the worst day of Buttercup's life. Blossom stood on the screen with her lightning scar exposed.

"Pinky, what the hell are you doing?" Buttercup asked. She was already taking out her phone to call Butch and tell him everything when Bubbles stopped her.

"Don't tell the boys."

"Why the hell wouldn't I?"

"Because if Blossom has so much as stubbed her toe they'll kill Brick."

"And he might kill her!"

"They aren't healed enough to face him. Blossom has her powers, Brick doesn't. We just need to go bring her home and the boys don't need to know," Bubbles argued. "Buttercup, it's better for them if we keep this quiet." Bubbles was right. She always was when it came to other's emotions. Buttercup jammed her phone back in her pocket.

"Okay, well." Buttercup tried to still her panic. "Let's go get Blossom, because I'm going to kill her myself for lying about Paris for three months."

***

Blossom needed to change. She needed to get back to her hotel room. Her hands shook as she pulled out her phone to tell Brick she'd be late. That plan vanished as she saw the damage the explosion had down to her phone. The screen was cracked beyond repair and the poor phone would not turn on. With a sigh Blossom turned in the direction of her hotel. That plan was also a no go. First responders and news reporters had filled the street. A few pedestrians were talking to a news reporter and pointing in her direction. She quickly darted for the shop. She just wouldn't take off the jacket and Brick would never know.

The shop was empty and quiet. Blossom made her way to the stairway that led to the apartment above the shop. The stairs creaked slightly under her weight. The faint smell of food filled her nose. She could hear something sizzling on a stove. Her cheeks warmed as she realized that Brick had cooked instead of ordering take out. The door at the top of the stairs swung open. The light from his apartment gave Brick a halo as she paused on the stairs.

"I heard the explosion. Are you okay?" He asked as he descended the stairs to meet her where she was at. He looked at the state of her clothes. "Shit. Brianna."

"I'm alright," Blossom sputtered out. "Just got my clothes a bit dirty, and the street was blocked so I couldn't go back to my place and change." His hand was suddenly on the small of her back as he guided her up the stairs.

"I'll give you a spare shirt. Are you sure you're okay?" He asked. She could read those red eyes, but his tone seemed genuinely concerned. She let him lead her into the warmth of his apartment. Blossom noticed how clean the place was instantly. Everything had a place, even the pictures with Butch and Boomer in them were perfectly straight. Brick disappeared into what she assumed was his bedroom and returned with a dark red shirt. She accepted it gingerly.

"I'm sure. I was fairly out of the frey of it. There's no need to worry." He pointed to the bathroom. Blossom made her way to the bathroom. She shut the door behind her and took a look in the mirror. No wonder he was so concerned. Her face was covered in smoke from the explosion and her clothes were tattered and torn. She looked like a wreck. She quickly stripped the jacket off. She'd need to buy Bubbles a new shirt before she went home, because there was no way she'd be able to explain the state of this one, she thought as she peeled it from her body. The light in the bathroom illuminated her scar. It creeped just to the bottom of her neck and stopped a little down her arm. It was gigantic and ugly. Blossom hadn't really worn anything that could show it in years. She'd just gotten to wearing regular T-shirts around her sisters without them looking guilty when the boys had come back to Townsville. Boomer couldn't even meet her eyes if just the smallest bit of the scar showed. She'd told him so many times she didn't blame him. Boomer didn't believe her. Blossom truly didn't blame him for the scar, in truth, she didn't blame anyone. She was a superhero, even with Chemical-X, scars were part of the job. Bubbles and Buttercup had plenty of their own.

Blossom emerged from the bathroom with Brick's red button up on. She found him in the kitchen. He looked up at her still dirty face from where he was by the stove. Brick raised an eyebrow.

"I um," She started. "I couldn't find anything to wipe my face with." Brick walked over to her. He reached out for her.

"Here," He said, lifting her onto the counter. Blossom blinked, her cheeks warming as he wet a rag in the sink he'd set her next to her. Brick stood between her knees as he began to wipe off her face. "How close were you to the blast? This is a lot of dirt." Blossom didn't answer as one of his hands held her chin steady and the other slowly cleaned the dirt from her skin. His touch sent her mind spinning. He was so close. Blossom's hands gently took hold of the fabric of his shirt. He didn't give any reaction to her movement. They sat in silence.

"There," He said after a few moments. "You're officially dirt free." He began pulling away, his skin was no longer touching hers. Blossom couldn't take it anymore. She'd told herself she'd come here for Butch and Boomer. She'd told herself she'd come here for Brick, but really she'd come here for herself. She'd come here to see if he'd touch her again, to see if she could feel his arms around her. She'd wanted to see if there was any sliver of a chance that they could be something, that she wouldn't have to spend her nights alone and her days hiding scars that no one else had. Blossom wanted to see if these feelings she'd never been able to shake away could lead to anything. She had come for Brick, but not in the way she'd tried to tell herself.

"Wait," Blossom said. He turned to look at her just as she took his face in her hands and drew his lips to hers.

The world seemed to explode. Everything stopped mattering. It was just them. Blossom felt his arms wrap around her waist how she'd always dreamed they would. His hands were on her how she'd always wanted as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and her hands tangled in his hair. His lips parted to her within seconds. They stopped being Blossom of the Powerpuff Girls and Brick the Banished Rowdyruff Boy. They were just Blossom and Brick. They were just them. Blossom felt one of his hands run along her thigh. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She wanted him to stay right here. She never wanted to let go of his as he lifted her off the counter. Blossom hardly cared where he was carrying her as she focused on the taste of him. He tasted like freedom.

He set her down on his bed. His hands trailed her body as he kissed her neck. Blossom's hands clutched the fabric on his back. She'd dreamed of kissing him and holding him for so long and now here he was. His skin was warm underneath her touch as they shifted positions so that he was sitting on the bed and she was straddling him. Brick helped her remove his shirt. Her hands explored his chest. Her fingers trailed the skin stretched tight on his collar bone. Blossom never wanted the kissing to end. The button up she was wearing was falling off her left shoulder.

"Blossom," He murmured. Everything came to a crashing halt as Blossom froze. The pain of a needle struck her neck a second later. Blossom pushed off of him. She staggered back to the wall. Her hand went to her neck. Her vision was losing the crispness of Chemical-X enhancement as her eyes settled on the syringe in his hand. Blossom gasped. The older she got, the longer Chemical-X was in her system, the worse the effects of Antidote-X got. Pain rocketed through her. She sank to the floor.

"No," Blossom whispered. She watched Brick stand up as the light caught her red ribbon on his wrist.

"I'm not gonna lie. You really had me fooled at first. The hair cut threw me off." He knelt down before her. His hands gripped her chin roughly. All the gentleness was gone from his touch. "And what are those? Contacts?" He laughed. "So what was your plan? What was the point of the whole 'Brianna Williams' act? Was it some sick game you wanted to play before you took care of me?" She couldn't form any words as the pain crept through her muscles. How long had he known? Where had he gotten the Antidote-X?

"It doesn't really matter," Brick said. His tone was dangerous. His eyes narrowed at her. "You failed, Blossom." His hands closed around her throat. "I'm not letting go this time." Blossom struggled against him. How had he figured it out? Why did they always come to this? Didn't he care? The tears filled her eyes. For a moment, she considered giving up. She considered letting him choke her out. Eventually, her family would discover the truth about Paris. One day they would realize she'd come to New York City. Hell would be rained down on Brick then. Buttercup, Bubbles, and Boomer would all use the extent of their powers on him. Butch wouldn't need his powers. The green-eyed man would kill Brick with his bare hands. The thought of Butch killing his brother sent a wave of energy through her body. She couldn't die here. Her sisters needed her. Boomer and Butch needed her. Her niece needed her alive. Blossom Utonium was many things, but someone that gave up was not one of them.

Blossom slammed her head into his. It hurt far more than she'd thought it would, but Brick let go of her. He hit the floor with a thud.

"No, it doesn't end like that. You don't get to kill me," Blossom coughed. Her body ached from the Antidote-X, but she had more important matters. He lunged for her, but she was ready this time. Blossom slammed Brick into the ground. She used her weight to pin him down. She raised her fist and brought it down. He grabbed at her waist and threw her off of him. They stared at each other for a moment. Anger filled his eyes, but for the first time in their lives, Blossom knew hers were just as enraged. She thought back to the car crash. She'd saved everyone in it. She'd spent her entire life saving people. She'd wanted nothing more in this world than to save him. Blossom would have sold her soul to save him, but he had still tried to kill her. Her heart beat in a broken pattern. She just wanted to go home. The anger she had melted away in seconds and gave into the sadness that could rattle the heavens.

"Stop this. Let me walk out that door and you'll never have to see my face again," She said. She had to let him go. She knew she had to, but she also knew she couldn't. She'd have to spend her life regretting him. It was the best thing she could do for everyone else that she loved. Brick sneered.

"That's not how this works, Blossom. You should know better." She didn't. Blossom was an idiot. She'd come here for foolish reasons, because she'd never been able to let him go. She'd spent ten years in love with the ghost of someone who'd never loved her. Brick had never been someone capable of returning her heart to her.

"Please, if you ever cared for your brothers, just let me go home." The red of his eyes bore into her. It threatened to consume her very being.

"You don't get it. Everything I've ever done was for them." Those words broke her heart. Everything he'd ever done had been for them; but everything he'd ever done had hurt them. Could Brick truly not see that?

"Brick Jojo," She began. She never finished what she wanted to say. The look in his eyes told her there was no point. Her words would never reach him. Blossom stood. He stayed where he was on the floor. He didn't move as she left the bedroom. She didn't bother looking for her purse or collecting her jacket. She just wanted to leave. She just wanted to go home. There was nothing in this apartment that she intended to bring home with her; no matter how much she had secretly hoped to. Blossom reached to open the door to the stairs.

The door knob refused to turn in her grasp. Blossom rattled the door, but it didn't budge.

"Door's locked." Brick's voice sounded from behind her. Blossom spun to meet his gaze. "You're not leaving." Brick looked sinister. He grabbed her by the hair. Blossom let out a cry of pain as he pulled her into him. His breath was hot against her ear. She shoved him away, ignoring the pain as he pulled out some of her hair. Her feet took her into the kitchen. She searched for a way out. The kitchen window overlooked an alleyway. It was too far from the neighboring roof for her to jump to safety.

"There's no way out," Brick called from the other room. Blossom looked around for a weapon. Her eyes landed on the knife block on the counter. She pulled the Chef's knife from the knife block before throwing the other knives from the window. He wouldn't be able to get a weapon.

He paused at the entrance to the kitchen. Brick tilted his head at the sight of the knife in her grasp. "You got yourself something sharp." He stepped forward until they were nose-to-nose. Her hands shook as Brick took the blade in her grip and pressed the tip to his chest. "Too bad you won't use it. You're a superhero, Blossom, you've never hurt anyone in your life." Her eyes stared up at him. She could see the little boy she'd given her first kisses to. The boy she'd crushed on for years. The boy who'd smiled at her in middle school when no one else could tell she was sad. She could remember hearing him stifle laughter at her jokes from across the lunch room. Every dream she'd ever had of him. She had loved him so much. He was right. She couldn't. She'd loved him too much. Blossom let the knife clatter to the ground. Brick reached up and cradled her face. His thumb brushed her tears away.

"Brick," she sobbed. "Please, I just want to go home." He shushed her.

"I know. I know. I do too," His voice was suddenly gentle. Blossom knew she shouldn't. She knew that giving up on him was the smart decision, but he'd always been the only thing she couldn't be smart about.

"Then let's go home," She whispered. She touched his cheek. He closed his eyes at her touch. "Let's go home. Let's move on from this."

She can forgive anything, Brick thought as he closed his eyes. He leaned his cheek into her touch. He hadn't lied. He wanted to go home more than anything. After she'd slipped and called him by his full name he'd stolen the Antidote-X he'd known the Powerpuff girls always had on them from her purse. After she'd gone he'd spent hours staring at the bottle. He'd been tempted to dump it down the drain and pretend as if he hadn't figured out who she was. He'd taken out his laptop and looked into her life in Townsville. It looked happy. His brothers frequently appeared on her social media. They'd been smiling in every picture. He had looked into their lives. Boomer was married. Butch was a father. They'd had everything they'd ever dreamed of. They had everything Brick had ever dreamed of. But he knew it was only a matter of time before Him grew tired of it. It was only a matter of time before the devil decided to punish them.

Brick opened his eyes. Tears fell down his cheeks as he looked down at Blossom. She was everything he'd ever wanted.

Even with the short hair and contacts, he wondered how he hadn't seen it sooner. Blossom was unmistakable no matter the color of her eyes or the length of her hair. She was still the only person he'd ever loved. He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to hold her. He wanted everything that was Blossom Utonium, but he couldn't. He couldn't have her. He was a fool for having kissed her, for nearly going farther than the kisses. He was a fool for ever touching her. She was his great temptation. He'd never be free with her still breathing. He kissed her forehead, intending to kill her then, but her tears hadn't stopped. He couldn't let her last moments be with tears in her eyes. He wanted her to feel safe. The shirt that she was wearing fell off her right shoulder. Brick leaned his forehead against her scar. He held her in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Blossom, " He said into her skin. Her own arms wrapped around his shoulders. She held him tight. She could forgive anything. Brick knew all the things he shouldn't do. He knew that he should kill her, but he couldn't. All he wanted was to hold Blossom close.

"Let's go home, Brick," She whispered into his hair. He pulled away as he nodded. Blossom took his hand in hers. Brick let his cares about all the things he should and shouldn't do fade away. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill her. He loved her too much. Blossom swept his hair from his face. Brick sighed. He was going home. He had her right here. They'd find a way to stay safe when Him eventually came. They'd find a way together.

A laugh echoed in Brick's ears. He froze. Blossom stared up at him. Could she not hear it? He looked around frantically. In the reflection on the window he could see them. Blossom's reflection was looking at him in concern. There was another figure in the reflection. Him. The devil stood behind Blossom grinning. He reached a claw around her. The claw opened up as it got closer to her throat. Brick looked away from the window. Him wasn't there. It was only Blossom holding onto his hand as tight as she could. He blinked as more tears poured down his face. Him would come for them. Him would kill them. The scars on Brick's arms hurt. He'd endured what Him had done for a single kiss. Death by Him's claws would be painful. It would be agonizing. Brick couldn't go through that. He couldn't allow for Blossom or his brothers, or Butch's sweet little daughter that he'd seen photos of to go through that. The only way to protect them from that, Brick realized with a shattered heart, was to kill them all himself.

Blossom saw the change in Brick's eyes. She'd been so close. She'd been so close to saving him. She let go of his hand. His eyes weren't filled with anger this time. They were full of grieve and determination. She was dead. Blossom tried to run, but he caught her by the waist. She was slammed down into the tile floor. She cried out in pain. The impact was forceful enough she was certain she'd have a concussion if she made it out of this alive. She kicked at Brick, attempting to get away. He only grabbed at her legs as he tried to drag her toward him. Her hands groped desperately for anything to help her. Anything to save her. The cool metal brushed her fingertips. Her eyes darted to the knife just outside of her grasp. In panic, she slammed her foot into his face. He swore as his hands went up to the injured skin. Blossom scrambled to her hands and knees moving as quickly as she could to the knife. He'd caught on though. He lunged as she snatched the knife up and turned, slashing the weapon at him. She meant to get him in his leg or arm, but he was moving so fast and she'd never been good with weapons. When you had superpowers and were the weapon you didn't need skills with things like knives. She should have hesitated for a split second, then he would have moved just enough that the knife would have only grazed him. In all her life she had never hesitated and with her life on the line now was no exception.

Everything slowed to a halt as the knife lodged into his chest. His eyes widened in shock. She felt her whole world come crumbling down as he collapsed onto her. What had she done?

"Shit," he said. The knife clattered on the ground pitifully as if it hadn't just been used to issue a death sentance. Blossom sat up cradling him in her arms. What had she done?

"No no no," she cried. His shoulders rested in her lap and his neck bent as his head leaned against her stomach. "This isn't what I wanted. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He laughed heavily. Blood was blackening his clothes.

"Why are you sorry? I would have killed you." He grabbed at her arm softly. The harshness had left his body. Blossom clung to him trying to think of a way to save him. Anything to save him, but there was no phone and in this part of the city no one would even acknowledge her screams. What had she done? He laughed again. "Besides, why else would you have been here? You're getting your revenge."

"I didn't want revenge." He was so still for a moment that she thought he was already gone. He coughed a moment later. She could find no relief in his movements as she saw the blood dusting his lips.

"Then what did you want, Blossom?" Her hands grabbed at him desperately. She sniffed. Tears were streaming down her face and falling onto his.

"I wanted to know if there was good in you," she said softly. "I wanted to know if you could be good, so I could stop telling myself not to love you." He reached up gently. His fingers played with the edges of her hair.

"What's the verdict?" He coughed. "Good or evil?" Her hands moved to cradle his face.

"In my experience, people aren't black and white. They're shades of grey." He smiled at this. She hadn't thought her heart could break more, but it did.

"And what shade am I?" She didn't want to answer. She didn't want to be honest to herself, much less him. She wanted him to be good. She wanted him to be deserving of all the love she had for him, but he wasn't. He was what everyone always said he was. He was his father's son. He was a villain. He coughed roughly. The blood on his lips grew. She wondered faintly how anyone could find blood red lips enticing. They were horrifying and terrifying, and they were sad. They were the saddest thing she'd ever seen. Blossom wasn't a killer yet here she was, the reason his lips were wet with his own blood. What had she done? "Come on now, we've lied to each other enough haven't we? What shade am I?"

"In all my life, I've never met someone so close to black," her voice was thick and cracked as she struggled to speak. He laughed a little at this. He tried to laugh, at least, it resulted in a coughing fit. The blood was now trailing down his chin. One of his hands clung to her wrist. For the first time in their lives she could see clearly what he was feeling. His eyes were filled with fear. He was scared to die. She was the reason he was so scared. What had she done?

"I fucked up bad, huh?" He asked her. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. God, they'd been kids once, how had it come to this? What could she have done differently to keep him from this? Then again, how could either of them have foreseen this? They'd only been kids, swept up in the world around them, forced down the paths assigned them. They'd only been kids. Kids; but they'd stopped being kids a million years ago. And he'd made a million of his own choices. He wasn't innocent. He wasn't a victim of predestined fate. He was a grown man that had chosen his life. He was a villain. She couldn't pretend as if the misfortune of children justified all the horrible things he'd done.

"Yeah, you fucked up bad," she told him. The smile on his face sent shivers down her spine. Why had she held out hope for him so long? Why had she let herself love him for so long?

"Well," he said, his voice devoid of remorse. Blossom didn't hear the way he struggled to sound so nonchalant. Brick didn't want her to carry the weight of his death. She needed to truly believe what Brick and the rest of the world knew; he was evil and unredeemable.

Blossom wiped at her face. How could he act as if he hadn't lived a life full of cruelty? "Maybe in another life I'll be closer to your shade. Maybe I'll be a hero like you, huh?" He said. In another life, they could have been happy.

His fingers continued to play with the edges of her hair. She'd need to shave her head after this. She didn't want hair he'd touched. She looked into his eyes. Their eyes locked and passed an unspoken message. She would lie to him now, she would pretend as if there was any universe where he was good. She'd lie to him, and know that she desperately wished it was possible.

"Yeah, maybe you'll be a hero," She said. Her fingers brushed hair out of his face. She'd trade every breath she had for a chance at a life where he was a hero. Any chance that they were happy.

"I'll see you in the next life, Blossom." He gagged as more blood filled his throat. "Don't let Him win."

"I won't. I promise." She didn't know what he meant. She didn't understand what Brick was saying, but she gave him promises. She'd come so close saving him. She'd been so close to her love not being foolish. "I'll see you in the next life." Those were the only words she truly meant. His eyes went dull after that. The hand playing with her hair fell limply to his chest. She clung to him. He wasn't a monster. He'd had a chance to be good once upon a time. He'd made the choice to be what he'd been, but that didn't make this any better. She screamed. What had she done? For all her heroics, not once had she been able to reach him. For all her good, for all her right choices, for all her kindness, not once had she ever had the power to save him. She'd never been meant to be the hero that showed him a better way. They were always going to end up here. One dead, and one wishing she could go back and just give him one more chance. She just wanted one more chance to reach him, even if he never would have taken her hand. Who could blame her for wanting to be the hero? Who could blame her for the childish desire to save everyone? Even the villains. Even him.

***

The door flew open. Buttercup and Bubbles tumbled into the apartment. Their eyes widened as they took in the scene before them. Everything around the two figures on the floor was eerily tidy. Everything had a place and in the center of it all were two people. Brick and Blossom. Neither one of them was moving. Brick lay stiffly with his torso cradled in Blossom's arms. Her face was hidden by her blood soaked hair. Her head rested on his chest. They were both covered in dried blood. A few feet away a knife lay cold and discarded.

"Bloss," Buttercup managed. She and Bubbles rushed to their sister.

"Blossom," Bubbles whimpered as she touched Blossom's back. The redhead didn't move. Buttercup lifted her sister's face in her hands.

"Leader Girl," Buttercup asked. Her voice sounded out with far more strength than she had. For a pitiful moment everything was still, then Blossom stirred.

"Blossom!" Her sisters cried. Her eyes opened slowly.

"Girls?" She asked. Her arms were still curled around Brick's body. The weight of him tore at her heart. "Girls!" They wasted no time in pulling her into their arms. "I'm sorry! I just wanted to get closure for the boys!" She told them the lie she'd told herself in the beginning. "I didn't expect to be gone so long, I didn't expect him to be so-so…" What had she expected? Had she thought he'd feel guilty? That she'd show him the light? That those brief moments in their youth that he'd been close enough to touch would lead to anything?

Bubbles shushed her. "It's okay, Blossom, you don't need to explain anything. Are you hurt?"

"Antidote-X, it's in my system," Blossom said. She tried to block the urge for more tears by relaying the information her sisters needed. Bubbles nodded. Buttercup helped guide Blossom to her feet.

"We've got you now," Buttercup said. "Let's get you home." Buttercup began moving them toward the stairs. At the doorway Blossom stopped. She looked back at Brick's body one last time before descending the stairs. She was never coming back here. She would never see him again. Blossom felt tears sting at her eyes. Brick Jojo was the one person she'd never be able to save. She'd been his great temptation and now he'd serve as her great reminder that not everyone was capable of being saved.

***

Blossom stepped out of the car in front of her apartment two days later. Butch and Boomer were waiting at the steps for them. Buttercup and Bubbles had agreed to tell them the story that Brick had died in an accident. Blossom couldn't bear to tell them that she had killed their brother.

"Bwozzum!" Protea cheered from her father's arms. Boomer gave Blossom a quick hug before going to kiss his wife. Buttercup quickly took her daughter in her arms as Butch stood to greet Blossom.

"So you lied about Paris and went to New York to see my abusive brother?" he asked. Butch's voice was level and it was clear he was upset with her. Blossom nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said. She took a deep breath ready to explain herself when she was swept up into Butch's arms. He was a tall man and she melted into his embrace.

"As long as you're safe, I don't give a shit why you went." His words brought tears to her eyes. She had her best friend held tightly in her arms and her family surrounding her. Blossom knew that she'd carry the weight of Brick for the rest of her life, but right now, she was home. She was finally home. Home bittersweet home.

***

The TV paused on the image of Butch and Blossom hugging. Him narrowed his eyes. It had been four years and somehow the truth had yet to come out. Brick's death had yet to destroy the family that had formed between the Powerpuffs and his treacherous sons. The green-eyed couple had added a set of twins since their first child. The blondes were soon expecting a child of their own and Blossom. Sweet, brave, heroic, Blossom was beginning to move on with her life. Brick was becoming a distant memory for them all.

The devil stood up with a huff before turning toward a shadowed corner. A figure stood there in silence. "This simply won't do. I've tried everything, but you know what they say: Third time's the charm. So why don't we give it one more go?" The figure stirred. "I think it's time for a little family reunion, don't you agree my boy?" The figure finally stepped out of the shadowed corner. Brick Jojo stood in Him's home. He titled his head as a broken sneer spread across his face.

"Couldn't agree more, Pops."


	3. Chapter 3: Where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buttercup and Butch are simply trying to raise their three kids in Townsville. Their eldest daughter has just turned five when an unwanted face returns from the dead with unknown motives.

Buttercup Utonium had always loved big cities. The activity, the sounds, the smells, and the beauty of being unknown had always appealed to her. In her teens, she'd dreamed of running away with the love of her life and living in a big city where no one knew their names, or that they'd been created to be enemies. She'd always loved the idea of coming home to her average apartment from her average job to kiss her anything-but-average husband. Things had changed though, the day she'd almost lost her sister.

When Brick Jojo had nearly killed Blossom Utonium the world had changed. The softness of childhood and teenage dreams had left Buttercup. The Townsville council had seen it fit to take away the Chemical-X that ran through, not only Brick's veins, but his brothers' as well. Buttercup had forced herself to be there for it. She had watched the boy she was head over heels in love with wither in pain as he'd been stripped of his powers. She hadn't been able to do a damn thing about it. All she'd been able to do was hold Butch afterwards. He'd been silent in her arms for hours then he'd told her he wanted to go home. She'd walked him home and said goodnight.

The next morning, he was gone. He and his brothers had packed their bags and left. No warning, no notes, no voicemail on her phone. Nothing. He hadn't even told her goodbye. The way he'd left had felt as if she had fallen overboard. He was on the only lifeboat and he had sailed away, leaving her to drown. He'd left her to a fate worse than the water filling her lungs. He'd abandoned her to the dark loneliness at the bottom of the sea. She'd gasped and fought against the current that threatened to drag her under. No one could reach her to pull her out. She had thrashed for air, wanting nothing more than his arms around her. Finally, after what felt like a lifetime she had broken the surface. As she'd gasped for air her lungs had filled with something else. Rage had filled her chest and even her very bones. The Toughest Fighter had held her head up high, hair still dripping from his abandonment and cursed his name. She'd held onto anger for years. Being angry at him was easier than missing him. Buttercup had been convinced of it.

His laughter now pulled her out of her thoughts, a reminder that he'd come back to her. Buttercup looked up to where Butch was sitting with their eldest daughter. Their friends and family surrounded them in the Townsville park. Streamers and balloons were tied to the picnic tables as her daughter, Protea, laughed. Today was her fifth birthday and half the town had shown up to celebrate. Yes, Buttercup Utonium had always loved big cities, but they had nothing on small towns like this. Her eldest was beaming and her twin toddlers were waddling around, sometimes zipping into the air before their uncle Boomer coaxed them back down to the ground. Everyone was laughing and smiling. Buttercup loved big cities, but she lived for small towns.

"Babe, get over here! We're lighting the cake," Butch called. Protea was propped up on his shoulders.

"Yay! Cake!" Protea cheered.

"Cake!" The twins, Aster and Poppy cried. They attempted to make a dash for the dessert, but Blossom plucked Poppy from the air, and Aster, never one for trouble making without his sister, settled down onto his aunt's lap. Buttercup smiled.

"Relax!" Buttercup told her boyfriend. Did it sometimes bother her that he had yet to propose? Buttercup couldn't say no, but she was perfectly happy with the life they had. Who needed marriage when you had three wonderful kids? "I was just grabbing more napkins before the kids make a mess." Butch smiled up at her from the picnic bench.

"As always, Utonium, you are far smarter than I am." He finished his compliment with a quick kiss on her lips. Protea, from her father's shoulders, stuck out her tongue.

"Gross!" She said. Her face lit up a second later at the sight of Bubbles lighting the candles on the cake. "Yummy!" Protea leapt into the sky in excitement. Buttercup grabbed her daughter's legs before she got too high up.

"Easy, my little birdie, let's stay on the ground for now," Buttercup laughed. She pulled Protea onto her lap and the newly five year old giggled. Butch looked around before settling his eyes on Blossom.

"Aster, Poppy, come here." The twins blasted into his arms, knocking him back a little, but Buttercup caught his arm before he fell. When they'd first started having kids they hadn't known if the children would have powers. Butch didn't have his after all; the ugly memory of him being stripped of them played in Buttercup's mind far too often. Chemical-X appeared to be a dominant trait, as all three kids had been shooting lasers from their eyes before they could walk. Unfortunately, that had led to several trips to the emergency room. Butch's skin didn't hold up as nicely as Buttercup's when a laser was shot during a temper tantrum or the simple innocence of children not knowing how to use their powers. It was a struggle for Buttercup to teach the kids. She and her sisters had been born knowing how to use their powers.

Blossom had made a case to the Townsville council on restoring Butch's powers, but they had stated that one Rowdyruff in town with powers was enough, despite them being stand up citizens. Butch hadn't been bothered by the decision. He didn't seem to care too much when a misplaced laser left his arm in a bandage for two weeks. The first time Protea, hardly over a year old at the time, had accidentally hit him with a laser Buttercup had been certain he would leave her. Boomer and Bubbles had taken Protea while Buttercup rushed Butch to the emergency room. She'd paced nervously as the doctors had bandaged him up. After they'd told her he'd be fine she'd rushed to take his hand. Buttercup and Butch talked in the quiet of the room and she'd told him she understood why he might want to leave. A kid that could accidentally hospitalize him wasn't exactly what he'd signed up for. Butch had looked at her for a long time. She'd felt her heart sink when he'd pulled his hand from hers. Butch hadn't left her though. Instead, he'd pulled her by the arm onto the bed and put her hand over his heart.

"I didn't sign up for anything, Utonium. I gave you my heart and soul; nothing is going to make me leave." He'd tilted her chin up toward him. "Nothing, will ever make me even think about not being there to see Protea grow up to be a powerful woman like her mom." Butch had kissed her then. The kiss had been heavy and full of so many promises that sometimes Buttercup considered that their wedding day. No ring required, they were in it for the long hall.

"Happy Birthday to you!" Buttercup's family finished the song, pulling her from her thoughts just in time to watch Protea blow out the candles of her birthday cake. Her daughter beamed up at their family.

"Great job baby," Butch said giving Protea a kiss on the cheek. "Blossom, can you hand me the knife?" Blossom's smile flickered. She looked down at the knife. Buttercup knew she wasn't the only one that had noticed the way Blossom sometimes seemed to be a million miles away. Her sister lifted the knife, blade in hand, as she passed it to Butch. He didn't say a word to his best friend, but a look was shared between the two. Buttercup was forever grateful that Blossom and Butch had become friends since his return to Townsville. Her sister had never truly trusted anyone outside of Buttercup, Bubbles, and the Professor. When Butch and Boomer had come home it had only taken a few months before Butch and Blossom started spending long hours together. Buttercup loved how close they were. It was a comfort that Blossom had someone that wasn't her blood to trust.

"I want a really big piece!" Protea giggled as her father cut the cake. Buttercup pulled her daughter's hands out of the way. A knife may not have hurt the little girl, but that didn't mean Buttercup wanted to see a knife accidentally come down on her child's fingers.

"Patience, baby," Buttercup said. Protea huffed with a child's impatience as she slouched into her mother. Buttercup kissed her dark hair.

***

With her tummy full of cake, Protea took to the sky. Not too high of course, her father had to be able to reach her feet; that was the rule. Her father was really tall so it normally didn't bother her, but today was her birthday and she should be allowed to fly a little higher. Besides Aster and Poppy never listened to the rule. Uncle Boomer was currently flying around trying to contain Poppy. Mommy and Daddy were talking to Aunt Bubbles. Mommy laughed at something Daddy said. Sometimes Protea wondered if she'd grow up to be as pretty as her mother. Mommy was no doubt the prettiest person alive, Protea would know, at five years old she'd met nearly everyone in Townsville. She was an expert.

A small movement caught her eye. Protea's gaze narrowed in on a tree. There was a man sitting in the tree. _Strange_ , Protea thought to herself, _grown ups don't know how to climb trees_. It was a fact. She'd never seen a grown up in a tree, which simply meant they didn't know how. Maybe he was stuck. Protea looked around. No one else had taken notice of the poor man stuck in a tree. She puffed out her chest like Uncle Boomer did before monster fights. She'd have to rescue the man herself.

As she floated closer Protea noticed just how odd looking the man was. He had purple splotches on his face and red eyes. She'd never met someone with purple splotches or red eyes. She may be an expert on prettiness and tree climbing, but she still had so much to learn! Forgetting that she had arrived to save him from the tree, Protea drifted into his field of vision. The man blinked his red eyes at her.

"How'd you get those spots on your face?" Protea asked. They looked like that time Aster had eaten out of the jelly jar with his hands. The purple skin covered his left cheek and trailed down his chin into the collar of his blue shirt. The man made a gruff sound. It sort of sounded like when she woke Daddy up after she'd had a bad dream, but not as nice.

"It's a bit rude to ask people about their scars, kid," The man said. Protea landed on the branch next to him.

"Those aren't scars silly! I would know, my daddy has a lot of them." Protea was certain Daddy had gotten them from monster fights of his own. The man in front of her just grunted in response. "Why is your face all splotchy?" He shifted on the branch, putting distance between them.

"Why are you so rude?" He asked her. Protea blinked over at the man. His red hair was shaved, making his head look like the peaches Daddy had bought at the grocery store last week.

"Why are you so grumpy?" She asked Mr. Peach. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I'm not grumpy," he said.

"I'm not rude." They stared at each other. After a moment, he seemed to make peace with her presence.

"I've always had these marks," he told her. _Oh!_ Protea knew what they were now. She held out her elbow so he could see, pointing to the large freckle on her skin.

"You see that? I've always had this. Mommy said it's a birthmark." She looked at his chin. "I didn't know they came in purple! I wish I had a purple birthmark." How unfair life was! His birthmarks were so lovely. If she had the purple marks she'd almost be as pretty as Mommy.

"No, you don't," Mr. Peach looked out at the park. Protea noticed he had the same look on his face that so many grown ups had. Kind of sad, kind of something she didn't understand. There was so much the little expert didn't understand yet.

"Why?" She asked. His gaze shifted on to her. Protea had only ever seen red eyes on the villains in movies and stories, but to her, they were simply something new. They were the color of a Valentine's Day heart, or the roses Uncle Boomer had bought Aunt Bubbles last week. Most importantly they were the same color as the jello cups she only got when she'd been really good. Red was a happy color as far as she was concerned. Why didn't the rest of him match that happiness? She inched closer to him on the tree branch until her knees bumped his leg. "I think your birthmarks are super pretty." He blinked.

"Protea!" The little girl could see, from the cover of the tree that her Aunt Blossom was looking for her. The party seemed to be wrapping up. It'd be time to go home soon. What a disappointment! She had just started to make a new friend.

"That's Aunt Blossom. I have to go," Protea told Mr. Peach. She began to float away. "Oh!" She said, turning back to look at him. The wind rustled the leaves around them. "I'm Protea." Protea smiled before darting off to her aunt. She didn't see the grim expression cross the man's face as he watched not just her, but her entire family. The red eyes took on a sinister hue.

***

Butch finished buckling Poppy into her car seat. She may have been indestructible, but the parent in him ignored that knowledge as he made sure her seat belt was tight.

"Poppy, sweetie, you've got plenty of toys at home," he told the toddler who was holding a frosting covered monstrosity in her tiny hands. She and her brother had collected plastic spoons and forks and used their laser eyes to melt them together. There wasn't much of a shape to the plastic, only that it had random handles sticking out for her to hold onto. Her tiny hands tightened around the sad excuse of a toy.

"No Bwuce at home, Daddy." Those big green eyes stared up at him. It was strange when the eyes she'd inherited from Butch focused on him. Butch had seen photos from his childhood and Poppy looked the most like him. His chest never knew what emotion to fill up with. Love and pride were always there, but there was something else—relief and eternal gratitude. There had been a time when Butch thought those features were created to be miserable. At least, on him, they were. He looked at his youngest daughter. His green eyes and his features stared back at him. Heaven knew she made those features look happy and cute. Butch gave a big sigh. The victorious smile was already forming on that tiny little face before he spoke again.

"Oh alright, but Bruce gets a bath when we get home." Butch made a show of sniffing the air. Poppy began to giggle. No sound was better than her laughter. "And so do you, my stinky little bug." Butch placed a kiss on Poppy's cheek and closed the van door. Yes, Butch Jojo owned a minivan, and there no better feeling.

"Are you sure you don't want a ride home?" He heard Buttercup offer Blossom. Butch glanced at them from over the roof of the van.

"That's alright," Blossom was saying. "I don't mind the walk. Just get those kids to bed." She smiled and Butch tried not to notice the way it didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Bloss," He said. "It's no trouble at all." They stared at each other for a moment. There was his best friend, a woman he'd spent hours in the bike shop with, getting ready to lie to him. She'd lied everyday since she'd returned from New York. Butch had made peace with it. Something had happened in New York to change her. It was a good thing Brick was dead, because whatever he'd done to Blossom, Butch would have killed him for it. There was a memory of thirteen year old Brick laughing in the school cafeteria. Butch would never forget the curve of his brother's smile. Sadness nestled into his chest. Blossom was smiling again and just like Butch had realized many times before, her smile meant more to him, than that brother's smile from all those years ago.

"Butch, I don't mind the walk." She'd gotten good at lying, Butch almost believed her. He watched quietly as Buttercup gave Blossom a hug and hopped into the driver's seat. Pink and dark green met once more.

"Get home safe," he told her. "I'll see you tomorrow for family game night? One of the last before little lightning bolt is born." This time, Blossom smiled for real. The memory of Brick stood right next to her, smiling at him one last time, before fading away. Butch focused on Blossom.

"You don't know that Bubbles and Boomer's kid is going to have lightning powers," She said. Butch grinned.

"Listen, if I have the start of a small army in my minivan, Boomer's gotta have something challenging. If the kid doesn't shoot lighting out of his fingertips like that dude in Star Wars, then it's going to be so well adjusted and boring."

"Your kids are well adjusted!"

"Yes, but they all very clearly have my ADD. My kids without the ADD would just be boring regular children."

"They shoot lasers out of their eyes," Blossom said, folding her arms. She was fighting a laugh. Butch shrugged.

"So can everyone else in this family. Lasers don't make them special."

"But ADD does?" She asked. Butch opened the car door.

"You bet your ass it does," he said.

"Ass!" Aster shouted from the van. There was a scold from Buttercup and a smirk from Blossom.

"Have fun getting out of that one buddy," she laughed as she walked away. Butch laughed before getting into the van. Buttercup glared at him. From the back seat Aster had been joined by Poppy in shouting ass. Protea thankfully remained quiet.

"This is your fault," Buttercup told him. Butch nodded as she put the van into gear. Buttercup drove in silence, as Butch tried to get his twin toddlers to stop yelling ass at him.

***

" _Here they come just in time- the PowerPuff Girls_ ," Butch sang to Protea as she lay cuddled up into his side, her favorite teddy bear clutched to her chest. Her small body radiated heat as she yawned. Butch stroked her hair. " _Blossom, she is the Commander and Leader. Bubbles, she is the Joy and the Laughter. Buttercup, she is the Toughest Fighter. Powerpuffs save the day._ " His voice trailed off as it had become very clear that his daughter was now fast asleep. The father carefully moved from the bed, making sure to settle her head onto the pillow softly. He crept out of the room. The door clicked quietly behind him just as Buttercup emerged from the twins' room. She looked at him with those lovely green eyes that Butch still, after all these years, couldn't believe loved him.

"Asleep?" She whispered, her voice barely a husk. He nodded before giving her a sly smile.

"Kids asleep? You know what that means." Butch loved the way Buttercup had to stifle a laugh as he lifted her up in his arms. Her arms looped around his neck as he carried her bridal style to their own room. The bed made a soft creak as he tossed her onto it.

"I most certainly do know," she replied. Butch never could get over how her voice sounded when it was just the two of them alone. He propped himself above her. Those hands of hers drifted up the muscles on his arms before he unceremoniously flopped down on top of her. Buttercup laughed from under his weight, her arms circling around him.

"Time to get some sleep of our own," He mused into the sheets. His girlfriend laughed again before playfully rolling him off of her. After a moment, they settled into each other. Butch had to admit they were a tangle of limbs when they slept. _But I wouldn't have it any other way,_ he thought as he drifted off to sleep with her heartbeat next to his.

***

Buttercup hoisted her five year-old up into her arms. Protea had insisted on coming jogging with her mother. Buttercup hadn't realized that jogging included darting after every stray cat or dog they saw. They hadn't even made it to the halfway point and the young mother was questioning her choice of letting the little girl come with. Aster and Poppy were taking their morning nap with their father, who was likely taking a nap of his own. Protea wiggled out of her mother's arms. Buttercup took a second to catch her breath. It was strange to already need to take a break, but she dismissed it as a result of chasing after her daughter. The wind turned sour as Buttercup picked up the stench of a monster. In the back of her mind, the knowledge of a coming fight grew, but her daughter came first.

"Protea! Put that rat down!" Buttercup scolded. The little girl held out the squirming animal to her. Buttercup put a hand on her hip. "Put that rat down right this instant, young lady." Oh god, she sounded like her father. Buttercup made a mental note to call the man from his retirement in Florida and apologize for everything she'd done in her own childhood.

Mother and daughter stared at each other for a moment as the rat squeaked in panic. Protea put it down a second later. "Don't touch your face until we've washed your hands." Somedays Buttercup felt she was stretched thin. Her daughter continued to dart around as they made their way farther down the street with the mother searching for any signs of a monster. Buttercup sighed. Protea couldn't be held too much at fault for her over activeness. With Buttercup as a mother and Butch as a father, the little girl had been doomed to be a trouble maker. Buttercup smiled softly at Protea. She may have been a troublemaker, but to Buttercup there were few things in this world that meant as much to her as her daughter. Her children were her heart and soul.

"Mommy," Protea said looking over Buttercup's shoulder. The sky suddenly darkened. "That's a really big monster." Protea's green eyes lit up. "Can I help fight it?"

Buttercup grabbed her daughter's leg before she could get any farther into the air. "No, Protea, monster fighting is for grown-ups."

Buttercup looked at the monster as she held Protea close. The creature was probably two buildings tall. It snarled with yellowed teeth and took in the world with one huge black eye. The young mother scoured the surrounding area. There was a small mom and pop store with reinforced windows. Buttercup zipped into the store. She set her daughter down. "Okay, baby, Mommy needs you to stay right here. You don't leave this store unless I come to get you. Do you think you can do that for me?"

Protea nodded. Her mother was only half focused on her. The woman's lovely green eyes were narrowed at the monster in the street.

"Yes, Mommy," Protea said. She often wondered if her mom was a princess from the fairytales. She had the dark hair that surrounded a lovely face and the entire kingdom of Townsville adored her. Protea pressed her nose to the window when the princess darted away to slay the monster. Daddy wasn't a knight in shining armor, like most princesses ended up with, because Mommy didn't need a knight. This princess was her own hero.

A small movement caught the little girl's attention. The rat from before scampered for cover as debris began to be kicked up. Protea puffed out her chest. It was time to be a hero like Mommy.

The store owners shouted after her as she darted into the chaos. All around the five year old debris flew. She dodged with ease as her lime green streak trailed behind her. Protea landed swiftly next to the rat, sweeping it up into her arms. It squeaked with what she imagined was purely gratitude. She had saved the day.

Suddenly, the monster's roar was much closer. Protea looked up just in time to see it's tail hit the corner of the building above her. The child's eyes widened as she watched the bricks come crashing down towards her. She curled her body around the rat, putting herself between the rubble and the animal. Without thinking she threw up a hand as she waited for the impact. It never came, but she still felt heavy.

Heat surrounded her as she blinked away the dust in the air. Protea looked up to see Mr. Peach. The man had thrown himself over her, just like she'd done to the rat. The instinctual pose of a hero. He looked just as confused as she felt by the lack of being crushed. Her gaze drifted to above him. A green barrier hovered above them and Protea could see the bricks piled on top of it. Mr. Peach stared above them before glancing back at her. Protea felt heavier with every passing second. Was she holding the up shield? She didn't get the chance to ask him. Mr. Peach grabbed her up in his arms and flew them from the alley. They were flying. He flew. Protea had never seen a red streak light up the air before. She thought it was beautiful.

They landed a little ways from the raging monster fight. Mr. Peach held her by the shoulders.

"How did you do that?" He asked. Protea looked up at him as the rat squirmed in her grip. So she had created that shelter.

"I've never done that before," She told him. His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

"You've never made a shield before?" He asked. A shield? That was what it was? Protea studied him. He had powers. She'd never met anyone outside of her family that had powers like hers. He knew what this new ability of hers was. She may have only been five, but Protea knew suspicious when she saw it. Mr. Peach had suddenly appeared out of nowhere too, as if he'd been following her. He only showed up when her parents weren't around. Protea had watched enough TV to know what that meant.

"Are you my guardian angel?" She asked. Mr. Peach's eyes widened for a second before a cool smile spread across his face.

"You caught me, kid. I'm your guardian angel." The little girl sighed, turning her back to the man. His eyes followed her slowly.

"Oh good! It was either you're my guardian angel or a crazy man that has kidnapped me." She put a hand on her waist. The rat wiggled in the other. "Now, Mr. Rat needs to be taken to safety."

"Right away, kid."

"Don't call me kid; call me Protea." Mommy never liked when people didn't call Protea by her name. Mommy always said her name was special and that she should wear it with pride. Protea intended to do just that.

***

Buttercup didn't have time to swear before Blossom went crashing into her. The two of them hit the concrete together with enough impact to kill an average person.

"How is this thing still standing?" Blossom asked as she climbed off of Buttercup. The green-eyed woman was offered a hand up a second later. Her sister pulled her to her feet.

"I don't know," Buttercup said. "Boom, threw lightning. You tried to make a monster popsicle and nothing." The two sisters watched their brother-in-law get stepped on. They remained where they were. Blossom was clearly trying to form a plan. Buttercup placed her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. "It'd be a real shame for me to develop my own special power right about now." Buttercup stared up at the sky to emphasize the line. Blossom watched the monster pick Boomer up by a foot and let him dangle.

"A real shame," the redhead responded, her voice monotone. Boomer was thrown once more to the ground and stepped on.

"We should probably go help him," Buttercup said.

"Probably," Blossom agreed. The two remained where they were.

"Should we try the Bunny maneuver?" Buttercup suggested. Blossom nodded as Boomer squirmed between the monster's toes.

"That's what I was thinking. It seems to be our only shot right now, you think it'll work without Bubbles?" Blossom stuck her tongue out as she thought. Buttercup shrugged.

"Well, Pinky, it's this or we explain to Bubbles why we let her husband get crushed repeatedly." Both sisters frowned. Blossom straightened as she prepared to reenter the fight. Buttercup felt her muscles tighten at the excitement of action.

"Bunny maneuver it is." Blossom pushed her loose hair out of her face. "Let's save the day, Sis." They took off at the same time.

***

Protea watched Mr. Rat bolt into the woods. Mr. Peach had flown them to the edge of the woods in Townsville Park. He'd landed on the side that no one ever really went to. Protea liked that it was quiet. It was just them. She looked up at the man.

"And the day is saved!" She cheered as Mr. Rat settled into the underbrush. "Thanks to Protea and her guardian angel." From across the park Protea could hear the ice cream cart. "This calls for ice cream to celebrate."

"Do you have money for this ice cream?" Mr. Peach asked. Protea laughed.

"No, but you do."

"I'm not buying you ice cream."

"As my guardian angel I think it's your job to buy ice cream."

"If I'm an angel that means, I don't have money."

"Then how come you have a wallet chain?" She asked. He scowled down at her.

"The wallet is empty."

"Then why have a wallet if it's empty?"

"It's called adulthood, kid."

"That makes no sense," Protea huffed.

"Shut it," he snapped.

"You're rude for an angel," she said.

"And you're bratty."

"I'm not bratty!"

"And I'm not rude," he responded.

"Could have fooled me!" She started walking toward the park restrooms. Mommy would want her to wash her hands.

"Where do you think you're going?" Mr. Peach demanded.

"To wash my hands! Then I'm going to ask that man over there to buy me ice cream."

"You really shouldn't talk to strangers."

"And you're any better?" Protea asked, turning back to look at him. A slow smile spread across his face as he suddenly loomed over her. His figure blocked out the sun, covering the little girl in shadow.

"But didn't you call me your guardian angel, little girl?"

***

Buttercup slammed her elbow into the monster's black eye just as Boomer and Blossom swiped it's legs out from under it. Buttercup wasn't fast enough to dodge the claw that came her way. She crashed through a store window a moment before an ear splitting sonic scream filled the street. The monster withered. Boomer wasted no time in grabbing the stunned beast and flinging it into the air, headed straight for Monster Island.

"Bubbles," Boomer said at the sight of his heavily pregnant wife, "did you fly here? You know the doctor said no flying!" Bubbles angrily waddled forward as Buttercup stood up, brushing the glass from her hair.

"I know what the doctor said, Rowdy!" Bubbles glared at Blossom and then at Buttercup. "But I was watching the news and saw my sisters standing there while my husband got stepped on twice. And besides you can't do the Bunny maneuver without me. I came up with it." Bubbles huffed. Blossom moved in to do the damage control with their sister and Buttercup turned to get Protea.

She stuck her head through the store's doorway and called out, "Protea, time to go." The store owners blinked at the mother.

"Miss Utonium, your daughter isn't here," the man behind the counter said. Fear crawled up Buttercup's spine. She shook her head. Buttercup must have misheard the man. Protea knew to stay put during a monster fight.

Buttercup looked through the aisles. "Protea, baby, it's time to go. Where are you hiding?" The man stepped out from behind the counter.

"Miss Utonium, Protea isn't here, she darted out into the street during the fight. We were going to go after her but the debris was flying everywhere." The panic was now gripping her heart. A five-year-old should never be near a monster fight.

"You let her leave? She's five," Buttercup spat. She looked around, her eyes seeing nothing but the lack of her daughter. "Protea!" She screamed. "Protea, come here!" Her sisters and Boomer stopped their conversation. Confusion filled their faces.

"Buttercup, what are you doing?" Boomer asked.

"Protea!" Buttercup screamed. There was no response from the little girl. "Protea, I told her to wait in the store, but she didn't. They said she ran into the street, but I can't find her. What if she's hurt?" Buttercup could feel her breath becoming frantic. "Protea! Protea!" Blossom began looking around.

"I'm sure she's just hiding. We'll find her in no time." The redhead's voice was calm, but no amount of calm words could temper the panic in Buttercup's chest. Her daughter was missing. Her daughter was nowhere to be seen. This was a type of fear the Toughest Fighter had never felt before. Nothing could prepare a mother for losing her child.

"Protea!" She screamed. _Please be okay, please be okay._ "Protea!"

***

Butch turned the ring in his hands. The twins were asleep for their morning nap and he was once again stuck trying to think of a good way to propose to Buttercup. He'd been trying to figure it out for three years now and still each plan sounded more ridiculous than the last. Some of them were even Boomer level silly. One idea had been to fill the house with proteas, asters, and poppies then pop the question. If she wanted to name all their kids after flowers, he'd use that to propose. He'd disposed of that idea after someone had sent a bouquet to the house as a thank you and Buttercup had spent the next three days sneezing and walking around in an allergies induced haze. There had been the classic take her to a fancy dinner and have the ring slipped into a glass of champagne, but then she'd chosen that particular date night to break the news she was pregnant with the twins. The rest of the evening had been spent switching between celebrating being a father again and scrambling to get the ring back and cancel the drinks discreetly. He didn't even want to think about the near proposal right before Blossom had returned from New York and they'd spent the next few months worried about her.

Butch put the ring back in it's box and returned it to the hiding spot he had. Blossom had been back from New York for hardly two days before he'd thought he'd lose her again. That had been a terrifying experience. It had been the day after she'd gotten back, Butch had gone to visit her. It had been weird that her apartment door was locked, but Butch had a spare key so he'd let himself in. Blossom had known he was coming and he'd been in her apartment plenty of times when she wasn't there. Her bathroom door had been closed and he could hear the shower running. Butch hadn't thought anything of it. He'd set down the bag of groceries he'd picked up for her and went about putting them away. He knew exactly where everything went. When he wasn't at home with his daughter and girlfriend, or at the shop, he'd been at Blossom's apartment. This was like a second home to him. He'd only thought something was strange when an hour had passed and he could still hear the shower. It had occurred to him then that Blossom herself hadn't made a sound. He'd knocked on the bathroom door softly.

"Hey, Bloss, you okay in there?" There'd been no response. "Bloss?" Silence. Butch had leaned against the doorframe and rapped on the door again. "Blossom, answer me, you okay?" He'd knocked a few more times and gotten no response. "Blossom, if you don't answer I'm coming in and trust me, I have no desire to see your boobs." He'd been absolutely terrified when she still hadn't answered. He turned the door handle, or at least he'd tried to. The bathroom door was locked.

"Blossom." He'd said. The door rattled as he tried to force it open. "Blossom, let me in." Butch would later spend an entire afternoon replacing the door after he kicked it down in panic. The bathroom had looked perfectly still. Everything was exactly where it was supposed to be, but Butch could feel the cold from the shower water. On the floor were locks of hair. The red curled against the white tile. The scissors were discarded on the ground and stained a scarier red. Butch had swallowed hard. In the hands of an ordinary person, those scissors couldn't even give Blossom a paper cut, but if she had been distraught enough, they could be deadly. It didn't matter that there was Chemical-X in her veins. Butch had ripped open the shower curtains. "Blossom," He'd managed. She had looked absolutely terrible. She was huddled on the floor of the shower, lips turned blue from the cold. Her hair had been choppy and there'd been parts of her scalp that were bald, it was clear she'd cut her own skin. She'd looked up at him then with big, broken eyes.

"Butch, I'm sorry." She hadn't said anything else. He hadn't needed her to. It didn't matter. The only thing he was concerned with was lifting her up off the bottom of the shower.

"You're okay," He'd said as he'd wrapped a towel around her. The shower had been turned off and he'd found her warmest clothes before helping her into them. Butch had felt his heart hammering in worry. He hadn't known what to do, so he'd called Buttercup. She and Bubbles had been there within minutes.

"What happened in New York?" Butch had asked Buttercup in the quiet of the kitchen. Bubbles and Blossom were in the bedroom and the couple was making tea. Buttercup had bit her lip. Her hands had tugged at his slightly damp jacket.

"Bad stuff. She didn't tell us everything, and I have a feeling she probably never will. All we can do is be here for her." She'd hugged him then. He'd wrapped his arms around her in return as they silently worried together.

The blaring sound of Buttercup's ringtone snapped Butch out of his thoughts. He leapt to pick it up before the twins awoke. He didn't need two cranky, superpowered toddlers on his hands.

"Hey babe," He said.

"Butch, I'm so sorry. There was a monster and I told her to stay put. I only looked away for a few minutes, but she's gone. We don't know where she is. I can't breathe. I can't breathe." Buttercup sounded like she was close to hyperventilating.

"Hang on, slow down. Buttercup, what happened?" He asked. His blood had gone cold. Her voice was frantic.

"I lost her. I can't find her." Buttercup wasn't hearing anything he was trying to say. What the hell was going on?

"Butch!" The front door had burst open to reveal Bubbles. Her hair fell around her shoulders in a mess but those eyes were determined. She grabbed the phone from his hand and hung up.

"Bubbles, what the hell?" Butch asked. Hands were placed on both his shoulders.

"Butch, Protea's missing." The world halted. "She and Buttercup were on the same street as the monster. Buttercup told her to stay put in this shop. The shop owners told us that Protea ran out and there was a lot of debris so they couldn't follow her. Right now, Blossom and Boomer are with Buttercup. They're on main street. Everyone's looking for her. We're going to find her. Are the twins still asleep?" Butch nodded carefully. Those blue eyes stared up at him. She touched his cheek gently.

"Everyone's looking, they're going to find her. I just thought you'd want to be there," Bubbles said. He swallowed, nodding his head a little. He took a step back.

"I need a second." His mind was racing. Protea was in every one of his thoughts, and not every single one of them was good. He'd experienced a lot of dark things in this world. The fear that his daughter was exposed to any of those was crippling.

There was a small sigh from the other room. Butch didn't know he was moving until he'd cracked the door to the twins' room. Aster and Poppy were both still fast asleep. The sight of them calmed him just a little. He could at least know that they were safe. Bubbles moved next to him.

"I'll stay right here. I won't take my eyes off them. I promise." Butch was out the door a second later.

When Butch sprinted into the small shop Buttercup nearly tumbled over from the impact of his hug. She clung to him as tight as she could, for a moment, he was all that was holding her up.

"Any word?" He asked as he pulled away. She shook her head, frantic.

"No, the police are looking everywhere. Boomer is searching the west side of town. Blossom already checked the east side. She just left to check the south side, but there's nothing. Protea's just gone." Buttercup's eyes burned. "This is all my fault! I should have just left the fight to Blossom and Boomer." Butch grabbed her shoulders.

"Hey, I'm sure she just wandered off," he said. How was he so calm?

"Wandered off? Butch, it's been over an hour since anyone's seen her!" Buttercup's voice hitched. "Oh god, she's gone." He didn't answer, he just pulled her into his arms. Buttercup could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He wasn't calm at all, despite how he'd sounded. Where was their baby? _Please be okay. Please be okay._

***

Protea didn't like this. Her tummy hurt. She wanted to go home. Mommy would know how to make her feel better. Mommy would know. She should have remembered what her mother always told her. She let out a groan.

"Don't complain," Mr. Peach scolded. Protea looked up at him. He was carrying her in his arms as she suffered. Why did her tummy hurt so bad?

"So. Much. Ice. Cream." She whimpered. He adjusted her in his grip.

"You're the one that insisted you could handle the large cone." What cruelty? To have no pity for a suffering child. Protea was beginning to question if he was really her guardian angel. Protea placed a still sticky hand to her forehead.

"The lights are dimming," she said.

"You have a stomach ache. You'll live."

"I feel cold," she continued. "Has the cold touch of death come for me?"

"Don't be dramatic."

"I'm dying!" Protea went limp in his arms. "Tell Mommy and Daddy not to let the twins have Mr. Snuffles." Mr. Peach rolled his eyes.

"Tell them yourself," his voice was emotionless. Protea followed his gaze. Mommy and Daddy were about thirty feet away.

Putting all the agony she was still feeling into her voice, Protea called out to her parents, "Mommy! Daddy! It hurts."

Butch spun at the sound of his daughter's voice. Protea sounded like she was in pain. His eyes zeroed in on his child. He couldn't see anything but that little girl. She looked miserable, but the relief washed over him that she was in his sights. Butch dashed forward, certain Buttercup was beside him. His girlfriend got to the girl before he did. The mother scooped the child into her arms. The child wiggled as her cheeks were covered in kisses. She let out a whine.

"Mommy, I don't feel good." Protea's bottom lip stuck out. Butch swept the hair out of her face.

"Sweetie, what happened?" He asked.

"She, uh, ate too much ice cream." The world came rushing back to Butch. He knew that voice, it haunted his dreams. Snarls and threats played in his memory, all delivered by that same voice. Butch looked over at a man that looked so close to Brick Jojo, it was as if a ghost stood before him. Buttercup took Butch's hand.

"You…" Butch couldn't form anything else. This wasn't right. Brick was dead, had been for four years. It was impossible for Brick to be standing before him. Someone was playing a sick joke. Butch took a step forward putting himself between this imposter and his family. Brick was dead.

The man before him smiled. "Good to see you, Butch." That voice echoed from lifetimes ago. _Hey, Butch, catch!_ Butch ignored the echoing laughter of kids. Brick was dead. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him.

"Butch!" the second voice of a brother rang out. _Wait, Brick, throw it to me!_ But this time, it wasn't a lie. Boomer landed next to him, back facing the imposter. The blond man smiled at Protea. "Oh thank heavens, you found her." Butch could hear his own heartbeat. "Why do you two look like you've seen a ghost?"

"Hey, Boomer." The air went dry as Boomer turned around to face the man before them. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Who the fuck are you?" Butch demanded. The man in front of him blinked. The eyes were the right shade, but everything else was off. The red hair was shaved close to his skull. His clothes were ill fitting and old. "Because I know you're not Brick; that bastard died years ago." He shrugged. Behind them, Butch could hear Buttercup telling an officer to radio Blossom and keep her away. _Good_ , he thought. _She wouldn't survive this. Those eyes still don't smile right._

"It didn't agree with me," The man said. "Dad, wants his sons back together." Butch snorted. Boomer blinked.

"You should have done your research; Daddy dearest has been dead for over a year," Butch spat. The air around them was getting drier by the second. "I'm only going to ask you this one more time: Who the fuck are you?"

"Boomer," Buttercup said. Butch didn't move, despite how grateful he was for her. She'd deal with Boomer. "Take Protea home." The blue streak lit up the sky and a moment later Buttercup moved to Butch's side. Her arms were empty, having distracted Boomer with the task of caring for the little girl.

"I'm not talking about the damn monkey," The man said. Damn monkey? Mojo Jojo had never been father of the year, but he'd still been a father. He deserved a little more than to be called a damn monkey. "I'm talking about our other dad, you know, Him." Butch narrowed his eyes. Him wasn't a father, he was the devil. Mojo deserved more than to be lumped in with that monster.

"Fuck you, Mojo was the only father I ever had." Butch spat at the man's feet those red eyes narrowed.

"Him brought me back. It's me, Brick Jojo. What do I have to say to get you to believe me, Spikes?" The man hissed. The words hit Butch hard, so hard that the sunlight vanished. Buttercup and the man were replaced by Boomer and Brick. Butch and his brothers were sitting in the yard surrounding Mojo Jojo's tower, a week after their fourteenth birthday. Fireflies lit up the summer night.

"Boom, what are you doing?" Brick asked as he tossed skittles at the blond. Boomer caught the candy mid air and popped it in his mouth.

"Wishing on stars," Boomer said. His hair was starting to get long.

"Isn't wishing on stars for babies and little kids?" Butch asked. "Come on, grow up, Boom." Suddenly, a skittle hit the green-eyed boy.

"Leave him alone," Brick said leaning back in the grass and gazing up at the sky. "What are you wishing for, Sparks?"

"If I tell you, it won't come true," Boomer said. The redhead sat up and gave Boomer's shoulder a small shove.

"Spill it," Brick grinned. "I promise it'll still come true."

"You can't promise that," Boomer said.

"The only thing, Brick can promise is that he's never going to take that stupid hat off," Butch teased.

"Oh that's it," Brick laughed before lunging over their brother and tackling Butch. The three wrestled in the grass. The fireflies flickered to the sound of laughter until the brothers tired of pushing each other around. They laid in the grass in a circle, their heads together in the center.

"I can't promise much, but I can promise you this," Brick said as they stared up at the stars. "It'll always be the three of us against the world; nothing is going to come between us." A shooting star cut through the air then, as if to seal that promise into the heavens.

"That's corny, even for you, man," Butch said after a while.

"Shut it, Spikes," Brick said, shoving a hand in Butch's face as he laughed.

The years returned to Butch. Buttercup appeared at his side once more and the sun lit the sky. Butch stared at the man in front of him. _Spikes._ It was Brick. He'd only ever used that nickname when it had only been the three of them. It was impossible for anyone outside the brothers to know it.

"Brick," Butch breathed. Brick gave a small smile, stepping toward him. Butch stumbled backward. No. It was Brick.

Buttercup spun into action then as Butch backed away. She clutched the collar of the dingy blue shirt Brick wore. Her eyes sparked a dangerous tone as the fabric steamed under her grip.

"No. You're not taking a step toward him. You're done. You go back to whatever Hell-hole Him dragged you from and you never return. This family doesn't need you," Buttercup seethed. Everything stood still for a moment until Brick exhaled. A thin whisper of smoke poured out.

"Don't threaten me, Green." There was the Brick she remembered. The dangerous, villainous boy. The total dickhead. Buttercup slammed him into the ground. The street cracked from the impact as she dug her knee into his chest.

"You don't scare me, Red." Her voice was colder than Blossom's ice breath. The danger in his features faded. Brick held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm not trying to scare you, Buttercup." Now, he was back to being unrecognizable to her. She'd never seen him release his temper so easily. "I'm here because Him wants his sons back. I just came to get them." Butch's shoulders drooped out of the corner of her eye.

"He wants them back?" Buttercup asked. Brick nodded as he stared up at her. There was a look she remembered seeing in his eyes nearly everyday back in high school, but just like then, she couldn't place it.

"Him wants his sons back." Brick rested his head onto the concrete and closed his eyes.

"What about the kids?" Butch asked. Buttercup felt the terror of her missing daughter return. She'd heard enough of her boyfriend's childhood to never want her children to even hear the name Him. Brick looked at his brother. The former redhead shook his head.

"They're safe. He doesn't want them. I made sure they could stay with their mothers. He won't tell me anything more than that." Something passed through the brothers. "Now, I know this is difficult, but we shouldn't keep Dad waiting."

"Why are you calling Him Dad?" Butch asked. He'd moved forward now. The unspoken message only understood by them as Butch gently pulled Buttercup off of Brick. He made no effort to help his brother up. His fingers intertwined with her own. "He was never much of a father." Brick sat up, glancing at the red ribbon Buttercup could now clearly see was tied around his wrist. The ribbon seemed awfully familiar. Buttercup's mind flickered to a ribbon adorned in red hair. The man in question tapped his head.

"I don't remember much else. I can't remember a lot before I came back." Another look carrying more than it should passed between the men. Was memory loss normal when someone came back from the dead? Buttercup wondered as she looked down at Brick. "Butch, I just remember you and Boomer."

"That's a lie, you know who I am," Buttercup interjected. Brick ran a hand over his shaved head. The purple marks across his face were the biggest change in his appearance. They looked vaguely familiar to Buttercup though, as if she'd seen that splattered pattern before.

"You're not that clear. You're a name, a foggy feeling of us not liking each other much, but that's about it. I only remember my brothers with a fraction of more detail."

"A fraction of more detail?" Butch asked. His grip on Buttercup's hand tightened.

"Yeah, I know you're my brother, that I would do anything for you, and that you used to have powers like me, but they got taken away for some reason. I remember though, that you had a special power, like the shield Protea put up earlier today."

"Protea made a shield?!" For a moment the gravity of Brick coming back to life and Him wanting his sons was forgotten by the two parents. Buttercup nearly threw her arms around Butch and kissed him in her excitement. Protea had a special power. They hadn't thought their kids would get those. Buttercup didn't have one and without his own Chemical-X, they'd thought Butch couldn't pass his on. Evidently, Protea took after her father and had a special power. Shields.

The elation faded in a split second though. Buttercup glared at Brick. She wondered if her eyes matched his, because she was beginning to see only red.

"Why'd Protea need the shield?" She asked. If this asshole had done anything to threaten her daughter, Him would have to resurrect his red haired son one more time.

"Relax, she put it up to protect herself and some rat from falling debris. I didn't do anything to the kid, other than let her eat too much ice cream," Brick responded to her suspicions. The anger left Buttercup. Brick had done plenty of things to earn an ass kicking, but somehow he hadn't done any of those things today. Besides, that sounded like her kid.

"That goddamn rat," Buttercup swore as Butch crouched down next to Brick. The brothers locked eyes.

"I believe you," Butch said. Buttercup had forgotten the way Butch used to go from complete stillness and spur into action. She hadn't seen him fight in so long. His muscles had always moved fluidly and mesmerized her. She watched his back tighten and his hand grabbed the side of Brick's face in a flash. Brick let out a sound of shock as Butch growled. "What I don't believe is this bullshit about loving your brothers; you're incapable of love. But you better believe me when I tell you this. Boomer and I are never going back to that Bastard, you hear me? Him is no father of ours, just like you're no brother of mine. I've got one brother." Brick struggled against Butch's grip. He shouldn't have had to even struggle, yet somehow, Butch had the strength to hold him in place. "Boomer is the only blood I have, now go back to Hell, because if I ever see you near one of my kids again. I will tear you limb from limb, no powers needed, Asshole." Brick was thrown into the concrete once more.

Buttercup blinked as her boyfriend turned his back to Brick without a second's thought, took her hand, and led her away. As they turned the corner, Buttercup caught a glimpse of Brick. He sat in the crater unmoving, and broken looking. He looked like a child and the mother in Buttercup wanted to sob, because the way Brick sat and the way he blinked, the way the light rounded out his cheeks, made her think of her own son. How had she never realized, just how much, Aster resembled his uncle? She turned back to Butch. Had he ever seen the resemblance? She didn't ask him. Butch didn't need questions right now, she could already see the anger cracking. All Buttercup did was tighten her grip on his hand, and let him walk her home.

***

Butch sat at the kitchen table, watching the kids play in the living room. Buttercup was relaying the information they'd learned to Boomer and Blossom while Bubbles busied herself with brewing tea no one would drink. Butch couldn't stomach it, no matter how soothing it supposedly was.

Brick was back. He was back. Small sparks kept appearing in Boomer's hair as Buttercup spoke. Butch just stared blankly at the kids. His babies. Aside from a stomach ache, Protea was perfectly fine. The danger she had been in didn't seem to have registered with her. She was busy telling her siblings about her special power. Shields. She'd gotten his special power. For the first time in years, Butch wished he still had his own powers, so he could throw up a shield big enough to protect everyone he loved. He wished he could protect his family from Brick. Assuming Brick had his own powers, Butch was useless against them. Butch couldn't truly do a damn thing to protect them. He couldn't protect his own children. His babies. His heart and soul.

"Shit!" Butch hissed. One of Boomer's sparks had zapped his hand.

"Sorry," Boomer said meekly. Bubbles opened the freezer for an ice pack.

"It's nothing," Butch said, but his skin was already swelling from the burn.

"Dude, I can see the burn. Don't tell me it's nothing." Boomer reached out for Butch. The blond brother's nerves were still in a frenzy and more sparks jolted out. This time Butch shoved out of his chair cussing, his hand red in irritation.

Buttercup, Bubbles, and Blossom all exchanged a look before rushing into action. Bubbles traded the ice pack to Blossom, who pushed Butch back into his chair. Buttercup decided it was bath time for the kids. Aster was whining about taking a bath as Boomer and Bubbles vanished through the front door.

The house went quiet in the wake of the girls' movement. Blossom sat with her chair facing Butch's, their knees almost touching.

"I should go after him," Butch said. Blossom pressed the ice pack to his hand.

"No, you shouldn't, Give him space." She didn't look up from examining his injury.

"No I should, he's going to do that thing where he blames himself for an accident," Butch said. _He's going to do that thing where he compares himself to Brick._ The green-eyed man went silent. Whenever Butch got hurt, he knew Boomer secretly thought he was just like Brick. Butch had tried to convince his brother that there was no version of this world where Boomer was painted with the same colors as Brick. Boomer had a heart of gold. He was gentle and kind and didn't have a mean bone in his body. Brick had been a different story. He'd been a monster all their lives. Brick didn't have a kind bone in his body. The red-eyed Rowdyruff had been just what Him had wanted for his sons: a villain. _The three of us against the world; nothing's ever going to come between us._

"Bubbles can handle Boomer." Blossom looked up at him, her eyes understanding of his desire to protect his brother. Butch could hardly grasp that there had been a time when she was his enemy. The woman right in front of him blew ice gently onto his hand. She sat there, calm and somehow collected.

"Are you okay?" Butch asked. Blossom paused.

"I should be asking you that. You're the one whose brother is back from the dead," her voice didn't waver.

"My brother is at home with his wife. I don't know who this brother you're talking about is." Their eyes locked. Butch often wondered how she made the color pink look so sad.

"Brick did a lot of bad things, but it's okay to still call him your brother." Her lighting scar peeked out from the color of her shirt. "No one will blame you."

"I've only ever had one brother," Butch said. "It was only ever Boomer and I." _It's the three of us against the world._

"Butch," she started.

"Enough about me." Butch really didn't want to talk about the turmoil in his chest. "Are you okay? Blossom, I don't know what happened in New York, but-" Blossom bolted to her feet.

"We're not talking about New York." She busied herself with gathering the cups of tea Bubbles had made. "We're not talking about me." Butch was sure she thought she was hiding that slight shake of her hands, or the slight crack in her voice, but he still noticed. She lied to him so much that he had resigned himself to silently watching his sister's signs of brokenness.

"Blossom," he started again.

"No!" She set a cup down harder than necessary. Tea spilled over the counter with the shards of porcelain. "Shit." Butch stayed where he was, watching the tenseness in her shoulders. Blossom hung her head for a moment.

"Tell me the facts," she said.

"What?" Butch asked.

"If you want to know if I'm okay," She said. "I'm not, so describe him. Break him down to the facts. Height, weight, what was he wearing, where was he standing, how did he talk. Break him down to facts so I can file him away as just another monster that can appear in Townsville, because I'm not afraid of those. I'm not afraid of monsters." The kitchen was silent for a moment. There was the sound of splashing and Poppy laughing from the other room.

"He stood at five foot and eleven inches tall. He probably weighed around one hundred and ninety pounds. He was wearing jeans, a button up, and a sweatshirt. There was a red ribbon around his wrist like he's always had. He was standing in the middle of the street six feet away from us. He talked how he's always talked." Blossom turned her head slightly. Butch could only see the curve of her cheek. Her bangs hid her face.

"Sweatshirt? Brick hasn't worn a sweatshirt since he was thirteen." It took Butch a moment to realize that she was right. Brick had stopped wearing sweatshirts after his favorite one had gotten stolen out of his gym locker. He'd been ridiculous about it claiming that if he couldn't have his red one, he'd never wear another sweatshirt again. Butch realized something else.

"It was one of mine. You remember that big green one I used to wear in high school?"

"Eidetic memory, Butch." Blossom reminded him. "Even without that, Buttercup used to steal it from you constantly. But why would he be wearing your clothes?" Things were beginning to come together in Butch's head.

"It wasn't just my sweatshirt. He was wearing one of Boom's old shirts. That dark blue one with the-"

"With the missing button." She finally turned to look at him. A plan was forming in those eyes. Butch knew he could do nothing to stop her. "Did his shoes have mud or dirt on them?"

"Dirt." He answered. The broken cup was cleaned off the counter in a second.

"I'll see you tomorrow." Butch didn't bother telling her not to go. Blossom wouldn't listen anyways. He only watched his sister leave the room and hoped she would be back the next day like she'd promised. It was all he ever did anymore when danger appeared. Hope. _Nothing is ever going to come between us._

_***_

Buttercup had just gotten the kids dressed and playing in Protea's room when Blossom appeared to say she was going. Buttercup saw that look in Blossom's eyes that gave away she was thinking up something she shouldn't do.

"What are you planning?" Buttercup asked. Her sister blinked.

"I'm planning what I should make for dinner." Blossom leaned against the wall.

"No, you're not. You've never planned a meal in your life. You live off delivery." Buttercup took her hand. "Tell me you aren't planning anything dangerous. Bubbles and I won't survive something like New York again. Don't do anything without backup." The image of her sister motionless and covered in blood haunted her mind. The broken look in Blossom's eyes when Buttercup had led her out of that apartment still haunted her dreams. Buttercup never wanted to see her sister like that again.

"My days of thinking up dangerous plans without back-up are over." Blossom smiled softly. "I'm just going home. You have nothing to worry about." The sisters touched their foreheads together. "I promise, Buttercup, nothing is ever coming between us again. It's the three of us against the world."

***

Blossom's shadow crept into Mojo Jojo's tower before she did. She shimmied in through Butch's window the same way she imagined her sister had many times back in their teens. It hadn't been difficult to realize Brick was staying in the tower after what Butch had told her. There only one place in Townsville Brick could stay without raising a commotion. There was only one place he could go to find relics of Butch and Boomer's teens.

Mojo Jojo had never touched the boys' rooms after they'd left town. When Mojo died, Butch and Boomer cleaned out the kitchen so nothing rotted, but other than that they'd let the tower sit. The boys hadn't even gone into their old rooms. Mojo Jojo's tower had become a time capsule. The dust at her feet was thick. Band posters, a swimsuit model calendar, and drawings plastered the walls. There was no sound in the rest of the building.

Knowing she was alone, Blossom took the time to wander Butch's teenage room. The drawings on the walls were mostly of Buttercup. Blossom smiled. Butch really hadn't even bothered to pretend like he didn't love Buttercup. The pink-eyed woman paused when she came to a drawing of herself and her sisters. She plucked it from the wall. She liked the way her sister's were smiling and laughing. Heavens knew she didn't see them laugh like this as much as she used to. Blossom carefully folded the image and placed it in her pocket. She made her way to leave the room when she saw a drawing of Brick. Brick was sitting at a desk, studying. Butch had painted the image with sunset colors. Blossom loved the way the light hit the boy's hair. It melted the red into shades of gold and orange. Brick was curled into the chair, his knees up against the desk as he read. The pen in his hands was held up to his lips. She touched the image gingerly as she noticed the tiny detail in the windows. There was the faintest reflection of a girl. The glass was tinted orange where her hair was with a whisper of pink in her gaze. There was a moment in time, frozen, from a perspective Blossom hadn't known had seen her.

Back then, she'd forgotten her biology book. How on earth had she forgotten her textbook with an eidetic memory? She knew that wasn't how eidetic memories actually worked, but Blossom was sure it would be the exact question Buttercup asked. It wasn't like the redhead could help how boring biology was, or the fact that there was a very big distraction. Even a superhero was allowed to forget her textbook when she shared a class with her crush. Blossom buzzed her lips as she walked through the empty hallways of their high school. She'd just have to hope no one had stolen the book...and that a certain someone hadn't noticed her forgetting it. That would be embarrassing.

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, hoping the warmth would leave them. Blossom turned the corner and stopped at the doorway. Brick was curled into what was usually her desk. He had his pen resting on his lips. Blossom's cheeks only got warmer as she noticed he was using her textbook. The pink pen doodles in the margins gave it away. She watched as he silently formed the words he was reading. The swell of his lips in the warm sunset colors mesmerized her.

"The fuck are you doing?" Brick had asked and for a moment the poor girl had thought he was talking to her. Oh no, she'd just been caught staring at her crush. Someone kill her now. _My funeral will be nice. The Professor will be sad, but some good will come from this; Bubbles will get more closet space and Buttercup will get away with more pranks._ Blossom thought to herself before she heard the laugh. Her heart slowed a tiny bit when she noticed Butch's reflection in the window. He was sitting on top of the teacher's desk, what looked like a notebook sat open on his lap. She could see the reflection of the entire classroom in the window. The only thing she didn't need a reflection to see was Brick as she stood in the open doorway.

"Drawing. I'm feeling inspired by the light," Butch said.

"I better not be in that light," Brick said. He hadn't noticed Blossom in the doorway. She knew in that moment there must be a god in heaven for her to go unseen.

"Oh please, I only draw nice looking things, and your ugly ass mug doesn't make the cut." Butch's smile was big in his reflection. Blossom couldn't help but smile a little herself.

"We're brothers, if I'm ugly, so are you."

"I'm the attractive brother, Boom's the sensitive and nice one and you, Brick Jojo, are the grumpy faced ugly one."

"Don't call me that!" Brick snapped. A tiny trail of smoke left his nose.

"Dude, I'm just kidding. Geez, I didn't mean it." Blossom heard the papers in Butch's hands crinkle. The green-eyed boy didn't move from his perch though. Brick gave a heavy sigh before adjusting his baseball cap. The hat truly did fit him.

"I know Butch, I meant don't use my full name. No one calls me that."

"That's not true, Blossom does."

"That's different," Brick said. Blossom's face got warm again. How was she different? Butch thought the same.

"Different? Ooooooooohhh, does my socially awkward brother have a crush?" Brick's face got pink as he frowned.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" He argued. Butch laughed, and Blossom suddenly decided she didn't need her textbook. Her heart was hammering, there was no way they wouldn't hear her. She dashed back into the hallway and went straight home. The warmth in her face never fading.

Blossom blinked at the drawing. So Butch had seen her that day? Or at least he'd glimpsed her reflection. Had he known how she felt about his brother? Why hadn't he ever said anything? Blossom stepped away from the wall. She didn't want the answers to those questions. Just like she had back then, Blossom left the room, leaving the image of Brick in the sunlight behind.

She wandered into Boomer's room next. It looked lived in. There was no dust to be seen. The bed was made. A glass of water sat on the nightstand next to a couple books on memory loss. Was Brick sleeping in here? Why? He had his own room. Mojo hadn't touched their bedrooms. Brick's should have been in the same eerie condition as Butch's. Her curiosity got the best of her and she made her way to the next room in the hallway. The door handle made a cracking sound when she turned it, as if it had been years since it had turned. How long had this door been shut? Something like dust fell into her hair as she stepped in.

Blossom gasped out loud when she turned on the light. _Oh Brick Jojo_ , she thought. _What did you do?_

Brick opened the door to his place. He liked to call it his place despite it being Mojo Jojo's tower. Mojo was dead after all, it made no sense to keep calling it the monkey's tower. Besides, Brick needed something to call his own. He had a feeling there hadn't been many things that had been his in his former life.

Brick wasn't surprised to see the outline of a woman waiting for him. She appeared every night to haunt him. Her silhouette never did anything, just stood there watching him. That was why Brick nearly jumped out of his skin when he turned the lights on and the figure moved toward him. The lights erased the outline to reveal the pink eyed woman from earlier. What had Protea called her? Bloss? Blossom! That was it.

Blossom advanced on him, with murder in those eyes. He was slammed against the wall. Her pretty face was twisted in a scowl.

"What are you doing in Townsville?" She demanded.

"How'd you get in?" Brick asked. That, he found, was not the right response. She slammed him into the wall harder this time.

" _What_ are you doing in Townsville?" Her words were a snarl this time. Brick instantly felt as if she was not someone to go against.

"It's just like I told my brothers; Him wants his sons back and I've come to collect." She blinked rapidly.

"By why would He send you? Why wouldn't Him just come to get them Himself?"

"Would you really rather have the Devil come to Townsville than me?" Brick asked. "Dad asked me to get my brothers, so I'm here to get my brothers." Her grip shifted. He remained pinned to the wall, but it was somehow different.

"You once told me that everything you ever did was for your brothers. So why would you help Him?" Her grip didn't lighten up.

"Why wouldn't I want to help my father? He raised us." Her eyes filled with the confusion he'd felt at her question.

"How much did you forget?" She asked.

"Well, judging by everyone's responses to me being alive," he said, "a lot." He looked down into her eyes. There was a memory. It rattled in it's cage. Brick wondered what about those pink irises made him so...sad? No, that wasn't it. It was deeper than sadness. It was fear or guilt? No, it was terror. It was terror and something else. He couldn't place that something else, but it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.

Blossom took a step back, releasing him. "How much is a lot?" Brick watched as she swept her hair from her face. Was that ash in her hair? "Tell me about Him." For some reason, it bugged Brick that she would ask about his father rather than him.

"What's there to say?" Brick asked as he straightened his collar. "He's the devil. Brought me and my brothers back from the dead, raised us to be good little villains just like him." That jaw line oh hers tightened.

"But how did he treat you?" She asked. He blinked at her.

"Treat me?" He asked. "He treated us like any father would." Her features darkened.

"Was he ever," She swallowed hard. "Was he ever abusive to you?"

"Abusive?" Brick scoffed. "He may not have been father of the year, but he never did anything to hurt us."

"I didn't ask if He was abusive to your brothers, Brick. Was he abusive to you?" His chest clenched. There was a cage deep in the fog of his memories that rattled, as if there was a beast within, longing to get out. Brick gripped the bars, but all he could see was eyes staring back at him.

"Why would you ask that? My father never touched me." She closed the distance between them and for a moment Brick thought her eyes were brown.

Blossom wished her heart would stop racing. It had no right. Brick was a monster with no claim at her heart. She knew that, but her heart kept racing. It only made her angrier as she heard him claim as if Him had been a good father. She had done everything she could to save him and here he was talking about the monster that had left him scarred. _But you left him dead_. Her thoughts betrayed her. She pushed his chest. Brick hit the wall with a soft thud. Her hands tore at his shirt. The buttons went flying and his hands touched her own.

"Woah, hold up, Red! I'm not sure where you got the idea, but I'm not into hate sex." Brick tried to move her hands. Blossom swatted his hands away.

"Please, if I wanted sex, I wouldn't be in a dead monkey's tower with his back from the dead son." She pulled the shirt off of his left shoulder. "Do you know where you got these scars?" She asked him. Those red eyes she'd cried so many tears over looked down at her.

"Judging from the aggressive stripping, not where I thought they were from." His voice sounded so much different.

"Where did you think they were from?"

"Probably a fight I got into with the other kids. I don't know," He pushed her away. "Now, would you get off of me?" Blossom unbuttoned her shirt, revealing the giant lightning burn that marked her own skin. Brick paused, his eyes glued to the scar that so closely matched his own, except hers was bigger.

"Do you want to know where you really got them?" She asked. She watched as he nodded. How dare he forget how he'd gotten the lightning scar. How dare he forget what he'd done to her. _You did worse._

"Something told me you were important," he murmured. Her chest lit on fire.

"Important?" She snapped. "Something told you I was important?" His face, with those marks like blood, didn't change. _You could still lie to me if you wanted, couldn't you?_ She thought to herself. "You're damn right I'm important! I know how you got those scars." She pointed at the scars on his upper arms. "You got those when you were fourteen. They were punishment for kissing a girl. One little kiss, and Him held your arms so tight they bled and scarred." She pointed to his lightning scar. "This one you got when you were seventeen. Boomer shot lightning to stop you from committing murder. And this one…" she paused as she touched the final scar. The mark from where she'd driven the knife into his chest. Under her palm she could feel his heartbeat. "This one was the one that killed you. And these wine stains on your chest and face," She reached up and took his chin in her hand. "They're where the blood covered your skin." He took her hand from his face. He didn't let go of it and Blossom wondered how he couldn't possibly remember who she was. Their pasts were so closely knit together.

"How do you know that?" He asked.

"Because," she said, her voice breaking against her will. "I was there when you got them." She stepped away breaking the contact between their skin. Brick stayed leaning against the wall as Blossom stared down at the buttons on the floor.

"That means you were there when I died." Brick couldn't understand why he wouldn't remember such a lovely face being there when he died, then again, most of what he remembered was pain and fear.

"Yes," her voice was suddenly very soft. Something in Brick began to stir. "I was there when you died."

"I don't remember anyone being there," Brick said. He'd always assumed he'd died alone. It seemed fitting for a villian to die alone. She could've been what killed him. _But_ , Brick thought to himself, _she doesn't look like a killer. She's a superhero. She couldn't._

Blossom made a sound of disbelief. "You weren't alone. I was there. I held you." _You held me_. Brick wished he could remember that part of dying. Dying in the arms of such a woman seemed like one of the best ways to go.

"Then, I know, my death was better than I thought." He was honest as he looked at her. She blinked and once again, there was a split second where Brick thought her eyes looked brown.

"How?" She asked.

"Because, you look like you cried for me." For a moment, the world around them vanished. _You're not lying to me now,_ Blossom thought, as her heart cracked a little. His face was earnest.

A monster's roar pierced the air and Blossom was returned to their reality. She suddenly remembered just how much she was supposed to hate him, hating him hurt a lot less.

"I have to go," She said, hardening her voice.

"Wait!" He caught at her wrist. "If you remember so much, please, tell me. I have to know why my brothers hate me." She yanked her wrist from his grip.

"I have to go," she repeated.

"Please, I need to know."

"That, Brick Jojo, is something you'll have to remember for yourself." Her pink streak filled the air leaving Brick alone.

_Brick Jojo_. She'd called him Brick Jojo and suddenly his head hurt. He sunk to his knees, clutching his shaved head in his hands. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. Images played through his head and he could only grasp that they were memories. His scars suddenly hurt. The pierce of claws. The burn of lightning. The pain of a knife sliding into his chest. Screams and shouts of his brothers, Buttercup snarling at him, and even Bubbles glaring in his direction. He could hear that cage in the back of his mind breaking.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. The figure that had haunted him stepped out of the shadows. That short hair was red and the eyes were brown, but there was no mistaking it. The image of Blossom Utonium scowled down at him, blood dripping from her hands. She had no physical form, but when her leg kicked out, Brick's body reacted as if the blow was real. He fell back. Her phantom foot landed on his chest. Blood was mixed into the ends of her short hair and Brick could finally name the emotion that had filled his chest when the real Blossom had appeared in his apartment. Regret. His biggest regret was tied to her and it hurt. It hurt so fucking much.


End file.
